Cicutam Et Rosa
by ToriKat
Summary: Hemlock and a Rose. Poison is love, and love is poison. Sherlock Holmes is all ice and poison on the outside, and claims he's the same on the inside. How could he love? Rose O'Hara is determined to show him how. First Sherlock fic, so feedback is lovely!
1. Prologue

He really isn't a sociopath, you know.

Not in the sense of- hey, his symptoms are more of someone autistic, not sociopathic- not that way. But in the way of- he DOES feel, even when he tries not to.

Even when he says he can't.

I'm a shy girl. I'm not popular, but I have friends. I don't have many romantic relationships, much less sexual ones. For the most part I stay quiet, and mind my own business. I don't 'catch people's eye'. I never do. I'm used to it. I don't mind knowing it either.

So why on God's green earth did I catch HIS?

Even now, I look back and wonder at all of it. Yes, he's told me what he saw in me, but it's still so… unbelievable. But I don't think he lied to me about it. I refuse to believe he ever lied to me- at least without a reason… I think I was one of the few he trusted with everything.

Even his life.

I was at University, an intern at the St. Bart's morgue. Needless to say, it is quite unsettling to walk into a half dark room and see a tall mysterious man beating a poor corpse with a riding crop. He'd stopped, given me a crooked half smile, and said:

"Coffee please. Molly knows what I like."

He then continued with the beating. I'm pretty sure I was so shocked that I just did what he asked, not even hesitating. I like to think I reacted rather well… Molly told me all about him. Sociopathic, lonely drug abuser turned sociopathic, lonely consulting detective.

Well that was new.

Many events have transpired since then, many that I am not proud of. Secrets that should not have been kept, lies that should not have been told, and love that should not have existed. Sometimes I wonder if it ever DID exist.

This, my dear readers, is a well-known story by now. The press has had a field day with it, haven't they?

"The Woman Who Broke Sherlock Holmes"

Not a very pleasant title to own, I assure you. But, before you roll your eyes and write me off, please. Just LISTEN for a bit. You may discover some things you've never dreamed.

So.

Let's start from the beginning, shall we?


	2. Chapter 1

"Caucasian Female. 22. Auburn hair, but a natural brunette- keep the auburn it's more becoming, doesn't wash out your face so much. Pale skin, green eyes, and dyed red hair. Irish yes? Working here, obviously for school. Nail biter, dark circles under your eyes- you're stressed and have a lot on your plate it seems. But of course, you're here in LONDON, not Ireland… So you're here in London for school, means you've got yourself a scholarship and quite a good one at that…

"You walked in on me with my riding crop earlier. You were shocked, yes, but very calm and collected. That tells me you experience "strange behavior" like that frequently. But WHERE? And WHY?... Ah, tightening around the eyes. So. You have a secret… But WHAT is it…?"

That was the second thing Sherlock Holmes ever said to me. I graced him with a smile, and handed him his coffee.

"The question is, Mr. Holmes, who DOESN'T harbor a secret?"

He gave me a short smile before bobbing his head back down to his microscope. Molly walked in shortly after, talking on her phone quietly.

"Molly, really do shut. Up."

Sherlock snapped, and I watched Molly quickly end her conversation. She looked to him with stars in her eyes, and I suppressed a sigh. She could do so much better than him.

"Right. Sorry… Oh!" Molly brightened up, "I see you've met Rose!"

Sherlock waved her words away. "Yes, yes," he spoke absentmindedly as he worked. "Rosalyn M. O'Hara. M obviously being a middle initial. Might be something like 'Megan' or 'Meredith', but then again she comes from a very traditional Irish family. It's more likely to be something along the lines of… Moira? Perhaps?"

Molly sighed softly, and looked at me in a sort of apology. I shrugged, and stated that I was going for a lunch run.

"Your usual Molly? Right... And… Anything for you, Mr. Holmes?"

"I don't eat", was the reply I received. My eyebrows arched. "Pardon?"

Sherlock sighed, and straightened up. "I. don't. eat. Miss. O'Hara."

I cleared my throat, looking to Molly. "Erm… Right. Okay."

I walked out, a bit confused, but oddly excited. It seemed like I had a mystery on my hands: Sherlock Holmes himself. He was quite a character. That was when I made the decision to unravel him. To solve him. Sounds rather childish doesn't it? Well, it sounded like a good plan at the time.

Balancing the sandwich boxes in my arms, I made my way back through the halls of the hospital. Finally getting to the lab, I reached out to open the door, holding onto my items precariously. Suddenly the door flew open, and Sherlock rushed out, knocking me over in the process. I let out a sort of surprised shriek, and somehow managed to grab the drinks as I fell heavily to the floor.

"Bastard." I mumbled, trying to collect myself. Luckily the sandwiches stayed in their boxes, and the drinks hadn't spilled… A hand reached out to help me up, and I took it automatically.

"Thank you." I spoke to the short man who'd helped me up, and was now collecting the scattered sandwich boxes.

"Wasn't very nice of him, was it?"

He handed me the boxes, and gestured with his cane towards the swinging doors Sherlock had just dramatically exited through. I smiled.

"Yes, well. I'm beginning to get used to it… Thanks again. I'm Rose. Rose O'Hara."

He nodded at me, smiling, his warm blue-grey eyes crinkling up.

"John Watson. Pleased to meet you."

I blushed a tad as he held the door open for me, and I stepped inside the lab, forgetting all about my very embarrassing fall. Setting Molly and I's lunches down on a table, I peeped through the small window in the door, watching John limp away.

He was attractive. He was a gentleman. Older than me, by quite a bit, yes. But I couldn't help liking him.

"So, Molly… Tell me about Mr. Watson."

Molly smiled and unwrapped her sandwich. "It's DOCTOR Watson. And, apparently, he's Sherlock's new flat mate."

I snorted, and sipped my water. "God bless his soul."

I could see Molly trying not to smile as she bit into her sandwich, and she told me to hush. I just giggled. I was beginning to realize how much I liked my new job, especially if I was going to be discovering more about these Sherlock and Dr. Watson.


	3. Chapter 2

_((Hey guys! I'm so excited that people have liked my story so far! I just wanted to say hey and let you guys know that I will update whenever I can. I have a lot of school stuff to do, along with rehearsals for a musical, and meetings for study abroad (I will be living in Germany next year). Sherlock will be OOC soon, so just warning you there, although I will TRY to keep is... snarkiness. It's extremely hard to capture such a character as Moffat's Sherlock Holmes, so PLEASE be gentle with me. :p I hope you guys continue to like this story and I hope I don't let you down! Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated, even bad feedback. I wanna know what people like a dislike, along with just general reactions. I'm a nice person I promise! Thanks! xx))_

I got used to Sherlock and John being regulars at the lab. Sherlock would work, and John would tag along, providing his experience when Sherlock needed it. They seemed to have a nice dysfunctional domestic relationship going on. John seemed to take care of Sherlock, making him eat and sleep and whatnot, whereas Sherlock just seemed to make John HAPPY. Simple as that. John's PTSD seemed to be fading, and he no longer walked with his cane. He seemed... younger. If that makes sense. They seemed to get along. Well... They got along ENOUGH. Occasionally there were the times that snide remarks turned into harsh words, and usually the fight ended with Sherlock throwing one of his tantrums and storming out.

My little... curiosity... about Dr. Watson had bloomed into a blushing attraction. We'd sit together in the lab on my lunch break, watching Sherlock work, and he'd tell me stories. John's a witty man, and he'd have Molly and me in peals of laughter within a few seconds... He was funny, brave, exciting, and very handsome. What wasn't there to like? I was, of course, wary of my feelings. There was an age difference between us, a vast one at that, and although I didn't mind it, I knew it was something to be conscious of. But what was the harm in a little crush? It's not like he returned the feelings, and I liked his company.

Molly teased me of course. She'd noticed immediately. During a long night of assisting Sherlock with his most recent case ("A Study in Pink", as John christened it on his blog), we were high off caffeine and all giggly. (Well except Sherlock himself of course. He was grumpy as always, and mumbling something about Mycroft and a drugs bust.) John, with the help of Molly, ended up drawing a VERY accurate picture of "Pouty, Grumpy Sherlock", and I swear it was the most beautiful thing ever created. Soon we were dying, tears running down our cheeks. I found myself leaning into John's shoulder, our knees touching and shoulders shaking with laughter. Molly giggled, and hummed something that sounded like 'Chemistry', making me blush. Sherlock just glared sullenly, stating that we were "acting completely childish." I told him he did a spot on impersonation of Mycroft, which earned me a scowl from Sherlock, and more giggles from John and Molly.

After that night, I first began to notice it. Maybe it'd always happened, and I hadn't noticed it till now, but... Sherlock STARED.

He'd look up from his microscope, or whatever he was working on, and just stare at me. And John... I could FEEL it. His icy blue grey eyes staring through my body. Sometimes I'd get up the nerve to pointedly stare back, in which case he'd slowly turn away.

I didn't quite know how to take it. Id FINALLY grown accustomed to his odd habits and cold words. We had a schedule now... I'd walk in in the morning with coffee, he'd make a snide remark about my outfit or hair, and I'd give a counter remark. Then wed work in an oddly comfortable silence until Molly came in. John always said Sherlock secretly liked me.

"Seriously Rose. You walked up to him once and snatched his cigarette right out of his mouth, then threw it away, and he didn't even HIT you."

Id laughed, and said Sherlock wouldn't hit a girl. John just snorted.

So. WHAT was with the STARING? Honestly, it bothered me more than his usual Sherlockiness. And I really didn't know how to handle it.

Damn him.


	4. Chapter 3

_((Hey guys! Again! XD I thought I'd just explain that I will be doing the cases, but they might occur in different ways than they originally do… If that makes sense? Sorry if there's confusion. I'm thankful for the alerts I've been getting. It makes me excited :D. Anyways. Yeah. Thanks. I hope you guys like this chapter. Sorry if they're a bit short . Erm… This story is unbeta-ed, and I try my best, but I do know I don't get all my mistakes, so I apologize ahead of time for that. And I don't own Sherlock BBC, blah blah blah. Believe me. You'd know if I did. Sherlock and John would have gotten it on like 50+ times by now.))_

Sherlock's staring persisted, and I eventually just tried to ignore it. He and John weren't around as much now after all. Their case was tying them up elsewhere. It was a Friday night when Molly and I saw them again.

Anderson walked in with two bulging bags, and handed one each to Molly and I.

"Drug test please."

His voice was smug, and I curiously opened my bag as he walked out. Various boxes, clothing, and sharp blades- the kind used for cutting cocaine…

Suddenly the door slammed open, and in walked a furious looking Sherlock, followed by a timid and apologetic looking John.

"Give me that."

I blinked at Sherlock's demand. "Anderson brought them in for a drug test."

"I KNOW. They're MINE. GIVE. ME."

Sherlock spat, glowering. When I made no move to repack his belongings, he surged forward as if crazed, and grabbed my arm forcefully. I winced at his iron-like grip, but stood my ground. I wasn't going to let him have his things when he was throwing a tantrum.

"SHERLOCK."

John's voice thundered in the lab, and Sherlock and I both jumped. Sherlock's grip loosened on my bruised skin, and then he was shoved back, John's hands on his chest. Judging by the effect it had on Sherlock, John could've been towering over him in that moment. Sherlock's eyes were wide, his mouth somewhat hanging open in shock.

But then, his fleeting vulnerability was gone, and Sherlock grabbed John's arm hard. John glared at Sherlock, and the taller man smirked, his hand slipping to John's wrist.

"Pupils dilated, pulse racing-"

"I'm. Angry."

John retorted, snatching his arm away. Sherlock's entire being reeked victory.

"Yes. Yes you are. But WHY?... You were just protecting your PRECIOUS Rose."

Sherlock spat out the words. John spoke back through gritted teeth, his voice surprisingly shaky.

"Sherlock. Don't."

The tension in the room could've been cut with a knife. My head was spinning. What was Sherlock saying?... His deep baritone voice sliced through the silence again.

"Don't waste your time John. She's young. And beautiful. And free. Why would she want YOU? An old, boring, wounded army doctor."

John flinched at the malice in Sherlock's voice, and my mouth fell open in a soft gasp. There was a beat of silence, and then Sherlock snatched up his things, and stormed out… The silence was deafening inside the lab, and I watched John's back. He looked defeated, his shoulders slumped and slightly trembling. Molly finally coughed, and mumbled that she needed to make a call, and then rushed out. I watched the door close behind her, and then swallowed hard.

"John…"

I trailed off, not knowing quite what to say. He straightened up, and turned to face me. All I saw in front of me was a soldier. Hard face, clenched teeth, head held high, rigid body.

"He's right. And I apologize."

His voice was curt, and it broke my heart. Sherlock was a right bastard to do this to John. All John ever fucking did was take care of him… He turned again to leave, and I blurted out the first thing I could think of.

"Let's have dinner."


	5. Chapter 4

_((Hiya! Alrighty, so this chapter is probably going to be considerably longer than normal… Although it still might be short to some people's standards… Sorry about that! And here is where I say all my usual thank you's, and "I don't own"s and blah le blah le blah. But honestly, you guys don't understand how extremely happy I get when I receive story and review alerts. It makes my day Anyways. I bet you people don't even read this part. I could just put gibberish in here couldn't I? Jawn and Sherly lahve eachotha dearly, and Jawn loves to dahnce unda rainbows wif buttahflies and Sherly wont dahnce wif him. See? Gibberish. Xx))_

"I'm sorry for the mess."

John spoke, his voice trembling a bit as he darted around the living room of 221b Baker Street, trying to clean up. He shuffled papers, winced at Sherlock's experiments, and quickly cleared away the day-old cups of tea and coffee.

"Make yourself at home."

He called out to me as he rushed into the kitchen. I smiled, and sat on the couch, looking around. It looked nice and cozy, almost normal.

Except for the skull on the mantle.

And the bullet hole riddled smiley face on the wall.

And the violin music scattered everyway, mixed with crime scene photos.

But for the flat of Sherlock Holmes, it looked quite… okay.

John came back in, carrying two cups of tea, and wearing a warm smile.

"Here. Okay, I'll go get… something better on, and we can g-"

"Why don't we just order in?"

I cut him off, smiling at him, and he nodded, giving me an apologetic look. I shook my head.

"You're stressed. It's understandable. Now sit down and drink your tea. Chinese sound good to you?"

I was already up and reaching for my phone. He smiled.

"Sounds perfect."

We ended up sitting together on the couch, cross-legged, and eating out of each other's takeout boxes.

"Okay. So Rose Tyler or Amelia Pond?"

I spoke, nodding towards the telly. We'd had Doctor Who on for the past two hours. John grinned.

"Rose Tyler. Has to be."

I nodded, picking out some chicken from his fried rice, and popping it into my mouth.

"Agreed."

He pouted, and immediately tried to steal some of my food, but I held the box high over my head, giggling. We had a mini tickle fight soon after, and ended up missing half of our show. Finally, we settled down into a comfortable silence, my feet now in his lap. It was nice, being with him. I wasn't stressed about anything. I didn't have anything else on my mind except John and how much fun I was having. I hadn't gone on a nice date in forever.

"So. Sherlock says you have a secret."

John chuckled, making his voice sound all ominous, and poking my toes. I laughed, trying to ignore my immediate discomfort at the statement. _Just tell the truth, Rose…_ I looked up into his blue eyes, and sighed.

_Well, maybe just a bit of the truth._

"My 'secret'… It's more of… You know how for you, Harry is a sort of… Well, she's family, so you love her… But she's kind of an… embarrassment… because of her issues…? Well… It's like that situation for me… Sort of… Erm… Yeah."

I coughed, and he patted my feet gently.

"I understand."

I smiled gratefully at him, but I was sad inside. Yes, I was thankful he 'understood', but I knew deep down that he didn't. He couldn't. And I couldn't tell him. So, I did what I've trained myself to be so good at: I changed the subject, trying to escape my thoughts.

"You were wounded in the war weren't you."

John nodded. "Gunshot through the shoulder. I was trying to save another soldier on the battlefield. I… Couldn't save him… I wouldn't let them pull me away… My best mate finally gave me a right hook, and knocked me out, just so they could drag me away before I bled out all over the place."

I swallowed, eyes wide. Then I spoke.

"Can… Can I see?"

I saw his eyes light up in surprise, and he slowly nodded. He unbuttoned his shirt, and slipped it a tad off his shoulders… My fingers reached up to trace the white puckered starburst that marred his tan skin.

"Does it still hurt sometimes?"

He nodded, his warm skin rising into goose bumps under my touch.

"Having fun are we?"

John and I jumped apart frantically at the sound of Sherlock's deep voice. John hastily buttoned up his shirt, and glared at Sherlock whilst picking up our trash from dinner, and throwing it away. Sherlock smirked, and continued talking.

"I think I've almost cracked this case John. It's so simple! The girl's name is a CODE! A code for the phone! It's a smartphone, so it has a built in GPS. All we have to do is plug in the code and we have where the phone is, and the killer."

Sherlock rubbed his hands together gleefully.

"Computer, John. Now."

In the kitchen, John snorted, and then came into view.

"No. Get it yourself you arse."

John then walked down the hall, and into the bathroom. Sherlock frowned, hesitated a second, and then moved to get the computer himself. I watched him plug in the code, and then walked into the kitchen, rinsing out John and I's mugs. There was silence, and I turned when I felt a presence behind me… Sure enough, there was Sherlock, standing tall, his hand clasped behind his back.

"You're wearing one of John's jumpers."

I immediately looked down at the navy jumper I wore, and then looked back up to a confused looking Sherlock.

"Well… I got cold… So…"

I swallowed hard, and fingered the hem of the jumper nervously. Suddenly there was a sharp intake of breath, and Sherlock spoke again.

"You're on a date."

He sounded shocked to say the least. I nodded, and hiked the sleeves up my arms. Of COURSE John and I were on a date, the bloody idiot…

Sherlock slowly stepped closer to me, and I noticed his eyes trained on the swollen and now darkening bruises on my pale skin. He gently moved his fingers over my arm, seeing how the bruises perfectly matched the shape of his long fingers. I looked up into his eyes; he was bent over me. We stared at each other for a heartbeat. His adam's apple bobbed, and he opened his mouth as if to speak-

DING!

The computer sounded, signaling it had a location, and Sherlock flew back away from me, eyes wide, before rushing to see. I stayed where I was, waiting for my thrumming heart rate to return to normal.

"Oh."

I heard him speak softly, and I moved into view of him bouncing from the computer to the window, and look out of it.

"Oh."

He repeated, before turning to look at me. His eyes flicked over to the hall John had disappeared down… And then Sherlock was out the door, bounding down the stairs. At that moment, John reappeared, looking tired.

"Where's Sherlock?"

"He just left… He plugged in the code, saw where it was, and left."

John went to the computer, and I watched his eyebrows knit in confusion… Then shoot up in some sort of realization.

"Oh shit."

He ran his fingers through his silvery hair.

"Shit, shit, shit, fuck… Alright... I have to go after him. The bastard. He thinks he's invincible or something, I-"

He stopped putting on his coat, and looked to me, hesitating. I shook my head.

"Go."

And with that, John was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

_((Hiya! Just wanted to pop in and say hi! I'm getting very busy now, because I have a musical and its getting towards show time, and on top of that a shit load of homework. But I WILL update whenever I can. PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP ON ME! :P I would like to give a special little shout out to 'Gwilwillith' who has given me some lovely feedback/reviews. And they always make me smile, because they're… well actual feedback about my story. And I don't mean to say I don't appreciate the other reviews and subscriptions. Because they make me so happy! I just thought 'Gwilwillith' deserved some recognition. So thank you! And yes. Alright, I'm boring, sorry. Here we goo….))_

I admit, I was a bit worried, watching them both go off after a killer in the pitch black of night. I tried to keep myself busy, cleaning up their messy bachelor pad, and making about three cups of tea, watching the steady beep of the GPS on the computer screen. An hour passed, and midnight struck. I was becoming even more uneasy, but then, nearing one, I heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs. Sherlock came bounding in, almost skipping.

"John shot him for me!"

He exclaimed gleefully, beaming, and looking proudly at the man coming in behind him. John sighed, rubbing his face.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock frowned, his eyes soft, his lips in an almost pout.

"Not good?"

John shook his head and patted Sherlock's shoulder lightly, leaving his hand there.

"Bit not good, yeah."

Sherlock looked down, and I spoke.

"But you're both alright?"

They nodded, and I smiled, and then stood.

"Well I should get going. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

John shook his head furiously.

"No. That's nonsense. It's one in the morning. Stay. You can have my bed."

I sighed at him.

"I'll take the couch John- No buts. You're exhausted. Go, okay? And thank you for dinner. It was lovely."

I kissed his cheek, and Sherlock cringed behind John's back. Really, why couldn't he just bugger off? John, on the other hand, blushed a deep pink.

"Right… Okay… Goodnight Rose, Sherlock."

He stumbled off to bed, and I nodded at Sherlock, before heading into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I took my long red hair down from its bun, and shook it out, letting it fall in waves around my face. Looks like I had my sweats and John's jumper to sleep in. Lovely. (It was casual Friday for Molly and me in the lab, okay? Don't judge.) I walked back into the living room to find the couch set up with blankets and a pillow. Sherlock sat in his chair across from it, on John's computer. My face lit up in a smile as a realized that it hadn't been John who'd voluntarily gotten my bed ready.

Emphasis on the word voluntary.

I plopped down on the couch, and Sherlock looked up at me for a second, before looking back down at the computer.

"Your hair is down."

He spoke softly, his eyes flicking back and forth as he scrolled through web pages.

"Yes."

I responded… There was a silence for a moment, and I could feel his eyes on me. I looked up at him, and he looked back down at the computer screen. The light from the monitor highlighted his face, making him look even paler, and his cheekbones stick out more. His pink cupid bow lips pursed and his brow furrowed at what he was reading; his eyes were a brilliant shade of robin's egg blue, and I found myself transfixed by them. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he sighed.

"It's not polite to stare, Miss O'Hara."

I sighed back at him, crossing my arms.

"It's not polite to interrupt a date, Mr. Holmes."

He chuckled softly, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Yes. You two were certainly having a wonderful date there. Quite scandalous."

I rolled my eyes.

"In case you care, it's not any of your business what John and I were doing, Sherlock… Besides… It wasn't that."

I know it must have been a trick of the light or something, but it almost looked as if Sherlock… relaxed at my words.

"Oh."

He spoke softly, and then there was silence again. I laid down, watching him, and then playing Temple Run on my phone. Around my third game, Sherlock began mumbling gibberish under his breath. By the time I'd died, he'd stood, tossing John's laptop away irritably. My eyes widened at the loud sound, and I looked up, watching him pace.

"Sherlock, what-"

"DAMN you, ROSE!"

He whirled around to face me. I was somewhat frozen, and extremely confused. He continued talking, stepping closer to me.

"John SHOT a man! And you didn't even wince at the news! You even asked if he was OKAY!"

I swallowed, and shrugged.

"Yeah…?"

He looked incredulously at me.

"But WHY? HOW? I can't-"

He cut himself off in a whisper, clenching and unclenching his shaking hand. He looked frantic, his pale eyes wide.

And I realized something.

Sherlock. Was. Scared. It was written all over his face. He couldn't see me. He couldn't figure me out. He KNEW there was more to me, he just didn't know what. And he was, quite frankly, freaking out. He couldn't trust his senses with this one. He couldn't deduce me- at least he couldn't deduce what he wanted to know most. He was exhausted, and confused, and frustrated, and it was because of ME.

I had done this to the "Great Sherlock Holmes".

He was mumbling again, pacing madly, and I stood, grabbing his arm. He jerked, and then looked down at me.

"Sherlock. Calm down."

He yanked his arm away from me, and carded his hands through his tousled curls. I continued.

"You need to go to sleep. Okay? You'll feel better I promise."

He just glared, and spat out the words: "I don't. Need. Sleep."

I grabbed his arm again, forcing him to look at me.

"Yes. You. Do. You ARE human, whether you like it or not. And you need sleep."

He stared down at me, his wide ice blue eyes connecting with my green ones. I stared back, almost defiantly. I knew I was right, and so did he. He was just a stubborn sod.

"What I NEED is a cigarette."

He spoke, and proceeded to start half tearing the room apart, upturning various boxes and things along the way. He was muttering as he did so, and I caught a 'Damn John', before he darted down the hallway. I followed him, frowning, and entered the room he'd disappeared into. The room was spotless. The bed perfectly made, no signs of anyone living there. EVER. The only reason I knew it must be Sherlock's room was because he was currently emptying out all his clothes from his dresser onto the floor. I sighed, and ran my fingers through my hair.

"Really, I don't understand how or WHY people put up with you. You must give John hell."

Sherlock froze, and turned to look at me. He suddenly looked… Broken. Completely broken. He spoke, his voice wavering, as though it was trying to be strong, and hide the emotion his body gave away.

"I never asked John to take care of me. I never asked ANYONE. And I'm not asking you."

I swallowed, regretting my words. I hadn't meant to make him feel… Whatever he was feeling. But I didn't know what to say to make it better.

"Please. Just go to sleep, Sherlock."

He finally complied, and began picking out blue silk bottoms and a grey cotton t-shirt form the mess on the floor. He turned to me, and hesitated, before shyly asking me to turn around. I did so, noting the blush on his pale cheeks. I smiled at his modesty, and then turned back around when he was done. He was sitting on his bed, his long legs brought to his chest, sitting in a ball. He looked… adorable.

Sherlock fucking Holmes looked fucking adorable.

"There."

He spoke, sounding quite like a rebellious little five year old. I sighed.

"No. Under the covers. C'mon now. Lay down."

I mad him lay under the covers, and fussed with his pillow and blankets. I could feel him watching me as I did so, and I tried to ignore it.

"Rose."

His whisper made me stop, and our eyes locked once again. He reached up, his spindly violinist's fingers playing with the tips of my auburn hair. The waves of auburn created a curtain on one side of his face, and I saw him moved slightly, letting it caress his cheek.

"I… I can't figure you out, Rose. And I… I don't understand why… You're a mystery…"

He murmured his lips barely moving. I half smiled, and smoothed the frown on his forehead with my thumb.

"I think it'd be best if you didn't figure me out, Mr. Holmes."

He frowned again, and I smiled, pulling back from him.

"Sleep, Sherlock."

He sniffled, and I swear his bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

"I don't need sleep."

I gave him a looked, and he closed his eyes, his dark eyelashes brushing his pale skin. I gently pushed a stray curl from his face, and his eyes shot open again. His tongue ran over his cupid bow lips, and he tried to speak.

"Ro-"

"Hush now, Sherlock… Goodnight."

I stood, and walked to the door. I turned to see him curled on his side in a fetal position. He sniffled again, and then closed his eyes. So I turned out the light, and closed his door, walking back to my makeshift bed.

I think maybe it was time that I started deducing him.


	7. Chapter 6

_((Hi everyone! Okay I really feel as if I should stop writing these little notes, but I always keep finding stuff to say. 1) Shout out to 'xxxemoxbeccaxxx'! I TOTALLY forgot to get you a shout out last time, but I just wanted to say that you ALSO have very… expressive reviews, and they never cease to make me smile and laugh. I appreciate them very much! And then 2) I am currently in the possession of a fake baby I have to take care of for school. And this is unbeta-ed. So if there's any mistakes, picture a girl trying to type and care for a screaming baby at the same time. Then take pity on me. ;D It might be a little shorter than usual, but the ending is just where I had to end it. I'm a sucker for dramatic ones. So I hope this is dramatic XD… Ps: Anyone guess Rose's secret yet? xx-Tori))_

After the whole 'tucking him into bed' incident, Sherlock seemed to ignore me. It made me a bit sad, and also a bit pissed, but I had John. He and I tended to stay away from 221b on our dates now, choosing the park, or Speedys, or even the lab, over an awkward moment with Sherlock. He was kind of a thorn in our side. We had an unspoken agreement of avoiding him in conversation because it was so… It felt so wrong.

John was Sherlock's. Sherlock was John's. They just had that sort of connection. It was just them… But… Apparently in some way Sherlock had decided I was equally his. I didn't know what he'd done, but I could tell he'd done or said something to John. I could see it in John's hesitation, and the way he'd get lost, deep in thought, after we'd kiss. So I wasn't even that surprised when John showed up unexpectedly at my flat on that drizzly Sunday afternoon.

His mouth was open when I opened the door… And then he shut it… And then opened it again. The rain was soaking him, plastering his grey-ish hair against his face, and the look in his blue eyes told me everything I already knew.

"It's okay, John. Now come inside, you must me freezing. Ill fix you a cuppa."

It was ten minutes later, after John was nestled on my couch, dry, with a cup of tea, that he finally came out of his trance. He suddenly hugged me tight, and I blushed, hugging him back gently.

"Uhm…"

He shook his head, stopping my words.

"Thank you. That's all… I didn't know… How to..." He swallowed, then continued, "I had to. I… I do like you, Rose… But… Sherlock, he…"

He trailed off. I raised an eyebrow, sipping my tea, waiting for him to finish.

But he didn't.

He left soon after that, giving me a kiss on the cheek, and then disappearing out into the rain.

And then I cried.

767304706674278970747837. 767304706674278970747837. 767304706674278970747837.

After John and I broke up, Sherlock stopped ignoring me.

He even whistled.

Fucking Sherlock.

It angered me to no end, maybe even worse than when he'd been ignoring me. He's the reason John and I ended it. And now he was just a bucket of daisies and rainbows. I knew one day I was just going to explode. I knew I would. I just didn't know when that moment would be.

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Apparently that moment would be at 5:17, Thursday evening. I pride myself in lasting even that long. Sherlock had been on an insult rampage all day, and was all but skipping round the lab. Molly was all cheerful because he was cheerful (of course), but I was fuming. Suddenly he looked up, staring at me.

"Why're you so tense?"

His voice was snarky. And I snapped.

"Oh. I don't. fucking. Know. MAYBE it's because of YOU, you PRICK! I had a NICE RELATIONSHIP going on. FINALLY. I had one! I PROMISING one at that! And YOU had to go RUIN it! Do you just LIKE hurting people? Watching them SUFFER? FUCK. YOU. SHERLOCK. WHAT did you SAY to him?"

When Id started yelling, Sherlock's eyes had gone wide. He looked like a confused deer in the headlights.

"I… I never said anything to John, Rose… I… "

I laughed, glaring, fighting the tears of frustration and emotion that I knew were building up.

"Just… Fuck you, Sherlock Holmes. I could… I just… hate you right now."

I was trembling, and clenching my teeth, trying to look just strong and angry. Sherlock spoke softly again.

"What… What did John… Tell you?"

I winced as a tear fell, and spat my words.

"What do you THINK?"

It was quiet suddenly, and Sherlock looked like the epitome of panic. He made a choked sort of whimper, stumbling back against the counter. He was staring at me, shaking his head. I didn't understand his reaction. Why was he looking so… horrified? What did he think John told me? My eyes flickered up to his, and I watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly… Then he fumbled for his coat, and dashed out the door.

767304706674278970747837. 767304706674278970747837. 767304706674278970747837.

I got a visit from John and D.I. Lestrade a few hours later. Apparently they'd found Sherlock in some grimy bar, nursing a pint- and not his first. I brushed past my visitors, working, and listening to Greg speak.

"Really. I haven't seen him like this in years. Not since his bout with drugs… That's where he used to hang out, before he got clean."

I looked up, noticing the two men's worried looks. Sighing, I spoke.

"It's not my fault he throws tantrums like a two year old."

I tried not to look at John, knowing how he'd look. Sherlock was three fourths of his life now. And he needed him safe. And I knew I'd do whatever I could do for John… So looked at him? Out of the question… Unfortunately, John spoke, his voice breaking.

"Please, Rose."

I groaned. "John, really, I'm not gonna-"

"You're the only one who can fix this, Rose. I don't know why…. But he… needs you. To fix it. He hasn't ever acted like this… Please."

I swallowed, looking up at the ceiling. Damn you, John Watson.

"Fine. Fine okay? I'll talk to him. Where is he?"

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I entered the foyer of 221b quietly, and was immediately confronted by Ms. Hudson.

"Oh Rosalyn, dear, I'm so glad to see you! My poor boy's been a right mess. I think he was throwing things earlier. Right now, hurry, hurry…"

I left her flitting about downstairs, and I cautiously opened the door to John and Sherlock's flat.

It was ransacked. Papers, files, glass, just… EVERYTHING… all over the place. I closed the door slowly, my mouth hanging open. This was… scary looking.

But I'd seen worse.

So I made my way through the mess to Sherlock's room, and knocked on the door.

"Sherlock?"

I peeped in, and saw him immediately. He was stretched out on his bed, spread eagle in the dark, his long bare torso standing out stark white in the blackness. I stared, noticing all the nicotine patches lining his long arms. His lithe body was all smooth and sharp angles and lines, and…

_'He looked so gorgeous.'_

My thought surprised me, and I almost stopped to ponder it but I forced myself not to.

"Sher-"

He held up his hand, cutting me off. I gave him silence for a bit, before eventually sighing in irritation when he didn't say anything. I tried another approach.

"Really? With the nicotine patches?"

He let out a long sigh, his chest rising and falling slowly.

"It helps me not think."

I moved more into his room slowly, and then made my way to his bed.

"Why do you need to not think?"

His eyes flew open as I perched on his bed, and he studied me. He was totally relaxed, his greyish blue orbs sort of hazy from the nicotine and alcohol coursing through his blood. He picked up my hand, holding it, pushing his long fingers through mine. I watched, feeling warmth seep into my soul.

"I'm… Deleting things."

His voice was hoarse, and deeper than usual. I squeezed his hand gently, noticing how he was trembling.

"What are you deleting?"

I tried to make my voice comforting. I was worried about him. He gave me a wan smile, and spoke.

"You."


	8. Chapter 7

_((Hi! I feel like I haven't updated in forever, and I feel so bad! I didn't have my computer this entire time, but I'd read from my phone, and when someone didn't update I'd be so irritated, and then I realized: IM A HYPROCRITE. :O Anyway, I need to talk about a few things, but I hope this won't be too long. First of all, I had a question from __**Gwilwillith**__ about the numbers I used last time for page breaks. Yes, they ARE page breaks, but it's also a… hint. It's a code, of sorts. And if someone figures it out, you win a prize… I'm not sure what prize. Just the prize of being the most awesome. WHEEYHEYY. If there are ever any questions, don't hesitate to ask! I will clear em up! I'd also like to thank the wonderful and lovely __**Gwilwillith**__, __**Deathcab4kimmie**__, __**xxxemoxbeccaxxx**__, and __**KhAeL**__ for their ever-quirky, funny, sweet, and UPLIFTING in-depth reviews. __**And a massive thank you to all you other beautiful creepers who give me all the alerts . **__Alright, as for the updating: Yes. It is SPRING BREAK. Well for me anyway. And, because of my boredom without my computer the past few days, I wrote three chapters. (Well I wrote 2, but the second one was a tad short, so I split up the first one.) I will be HOPEFULLY updating the other two soon, if not tonight. (Whoop whoop). But, I have A LOT going on the next few weeks. I have Hell Week rehearsals for the musical soon, which means NO FREE TIME. And school. And shit for my study abroad trip to live in Germany next year. And a concert to perform at. So… We'll see how this goes. But DON'T GIVE UP ON ME PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU. I WILL continue this, no matter what happens. Uh… What else… Oh yes, okay, I would like to ENCOURAGE communication! XD I just…. I'm a nice person, I promise. And even if it's not about the story, I will talk with you. I'll be cho bestie. Seriously. It's all good. Anyways. Shit this was long. I'm sorry. I apologize if the next few chapters are short. Unbeta-ed of course, because I'm a lazy sod. DON'T HATE ME, BECAUSE I LOVE YOUUU. Xx- Tori))_

"You."

I froze, my mind going blank. Me? He wanted to… Delete me?

"Why?"

He swallowed, and looked away from me, staring at the wall.

"Feelings."

He spat the words, his voice filled with disgust.

"You make me… feel… things… And it's quite silly. And problematic."

He sighed, pausing.

"It shouldn't be happening. And I won't let it… Don't worry; really, it's not a big deal. It won't be a problem to block it out. You know I don't love. And the minute someone loves me is when Hell freezes over… So you have nothing to worry about. I'll delete it soon enough. If you'll be ever so kind to leave me to my mind palace, I'll force it out, and it'll-"

He was cut off suddenly by my lips on his. I don't know what happened, honestly I don't… I was just… Overcome. By the sadness of how he thinks he can't love or be loved. By his vulnerability. By the fact that… that he felt for me. And before I knew it, I'd lunged forward.

I pulled away quickly, swallowing hard, an apology on my lips. Sherlock's eyes were wide, looking up at me, lips parted in surprise. And then reality slammed into me.

Sherlock couldn't really love.

At least he never had before.

He'd never had a relationship before.

Or… Any… Sort of… romantic anything.

So… Had that been his first kiss?

Well, shit.

"Sh… I… I'm sorry… I… I don't-"

"Teach me."

Sherlock cut me off, and I looked at him in surprise. His expression had changed, his eyes now… dark. And hungry. He sat up suddenly, and I moved back in surprise. He rearranged the covers over his waist excitedly.

"A… Again."

With his words, his large hands seized my face, and he kissed me- kind of. He was clumsy, his nose hitting mine and his teeth nipping my lip, and I pulled away at the pain. He immediately shrunk back, his facial expression and body language turning childish and innocent. He wrung his hands, his entire being spelling out 'insecure'.

"D… Did I…? I'm… I'm sorry… I don't know how to…"

I nodded, running my tongue over my injured lip lightly, before smiling.

"It's okay, Sherlock."

He sniffled, and then repeated his earlier request.

"Teach me."

I hesitated, looking down.

"Sherlock… We can't just… Do this. I… What are we? This has to… Have meaning."

He groaned, regaining some of himself, and flopped back onto his pillows, rolling his eyes.

"Relationships are so boring."

He peeked at me, and then sighed, seeing the look on my face. He took my hand, focusing on it intently, tracing the lines in my palm like they were the most interesting thing in the world. When he spoke, his deep voice was quiet, and somewhat shaky.

"You make me feel, Rose. And I hate it… But it's so… Different… It's wonderful. You're so… intriguing. I can't solve you. You're as much of a dick as me sometimes, and I like that. You're snarky and rude and can hold your own… but kind, and sweet, and caring at the same time. Everything I'm not. Y… You make me laugh. I enjoy being with you, which is…strange for me. You're the opposite of boring… You're like… You're like…

"You're like John… except different… You and John are… "

He stopped midsentence, and seemed to be struggling for words, then changed the direction of his speech.

"Every time I saw you and John together, it felt… it felt like I was being crushed form the inside out… It… My heart hurt. That night I caught you two together, kissing and touching, it… My heart **burned**. It scared me… And John could tell, couldn't he? That's why you two… broke up… John always seems to be able to read me, even when I try my best to hide it… I…. I really wasn't trying to end you two, I promise, but… I couldn't help but be happy. When you did… I just…

"I don't do relationships. Of any kind. John has stayed this long, and it surprises me every day, to find him downstairs in the morning making tea… I'm just… not good at relationships. I don't know what to do with them. I guess I'm… too much of a 'freak', as some like to put it. And I've honestly never given a flying fuck about it before. But… With you… It's different. I feel normal with you. I want to… to be good for you, Rose."

All this was sort of stuttered out while he focused on anywhere but me. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but that's how I know he was telling the truth. He shyly looked up at me from under his eyelashes, and asked if what he'd said was okay. I laughed incredulously at him, and placed a soft kiss on his forehead before he could feel like he'd done anything wrong.

"Of course it's okay. Its okay, Sherlock. It's all okay."

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The next few weeks were… tedious… to say the least. Sherlock didn't do public displays of affection. Hell, no one even knew we were… whatever we were. We hadn't even labeled it.

"You're mine, and I'm yours, Rose. That's all there ever has to be."

So I went along with his logic, just incredulous that we could even stand each other most days, much less actually be in an actual relationship. John knew of course. He'd figured it out the very first day, when Sherlock had endlessly played long cheerful songs on his violin. Ms. Hudson could probably tell, but I wasn't sure. She hadn't said anything. Yet.

Molly hadn't figured it out yet, bless her heart. I didn't know how Id explain it all, once she did find out. I knew I'd feel like a completely shit friend, that was for sure.

That left Greg, who figured it out while visiting the lab one day.

He was there to pick up John; they were having a guy's night out and were gonna go down a few pints at the pub round the corner. My samples were missing, and after I'd found them, I'd yelled at Sherlock for five minutes about it. I mean really, he couldn't just MOVE them to WHERE EVER he bloody well pleased! After I'd finished, and was glared sullenly at him, Sherlock murmured an 'I'm so sorry Rose. It won't happen again, I promise.'

The look on Greg's face as he finally put the pieces together was priceless.


	9. Chapter 8

_((SALUT MON BEAU LECTEURS! This chapter is going to be short, and it's more of a filler chapter than any other. Sorry! But I kinna needed __wanted__ it in here. So there we go. I want to apologize for the nappy grammar mistakes I had in the last chapter. It was BAD. I'm sorry. It was late. And it was storming. I'm so sorry. ALSO, I'll clear something up about the rating. It's __**M**__ and yeah. Just… Beware. Just so you don't, ya know, flip out on me if something MATURE happens XD. Lawlz. I know I'm updating quite quickly, so not many people have read yet, but thank you to everyone who has and who has reviewed, you are lovely, you really are. And I just realized this small thing has taken me about three hours to write because I've been distracting myself on Tumblr with Sherlocky, Johnlocky , Mystrade goodness, as well as songs about Sherlock. Yes, songs. Because I have absolutely no life, that's why. So, without further adieu, here ya go. Xx- Tori.)_

Nothing had… Changed really. We tried to act normal. Or, I did. Sherlock didn't seem to have a problem focusing on work at all. It frustrated me, seeing how easy it was for him. Why was I having such a hard time with this?

"Sherlock."

I spoke one day, while Molly was out, looking over at him. He was leaving against the center, examining some sort of powder. He barely responded; just mumbled a 'yes?' I glared, and stomped over to him, before yanking him around. I stood on my tiptoes, mashing him against the counter, and pulling his head down to kiss him.

Sherlock had grown to be a VERY good kisser… Yes. Yes, oh yes, VERY good. He was a fast learner and clung onto what Id taught him. I moved a hand into his dark curls and was rewarded with a throaty moan from him, which made me smirk. I then pulled away, smiling at his wide eyes, and then I went back to work. I noticed he never again worked at that certain part of the counter.

John and Sherlock were now working on their second big case together. "The Blind Banker" John called it. Sherlock loved it. He was always excited about his cases, while they always worried me. I know he's good at his job, but I just thought that one day… One. Day. He would be too cocky. He'd slip up. Somehow, something bad would happen. I could feel it. So cases always put me on edge.

We were in his flat, on the couch together. I was listening to him rant about Donovan and Anderson, about how they "could at least have some form a secrecy." I was snuggled comfortably under his arm, against his chest, which was a rarity…

Kissing was good. We could do kissing. Kissing was soft, and hot, and calm, and rushed, and needy, and sweet… Yes, kissing was the essence of us. The essence of Sherlock. He could do kissing. But… Nothing else physical… And little things? Touchy- feely things? Holding hands? Cuddling? He didn't do that… he couldn't. He didn't know how to act for those things. He tried of course. Which meant so much to me. So this moment of us cuddled together, even as he ranted now about bloody bodies, was special.

Suddenly his phone rang… When he made no move to get it, I rolled my eyes, grabbing it for him, and throwing it at his chest, smacking his arm.

"Lazy sod."

I smacked him, and he smirked at me, before answering.

"What is it, Lestrade?"

He snapped, standing, and stretching his impossibly long limbs. He paused, and then a smile lit up his face.

"That's FANTASTIC. I'll be there soon."

He hung up, and I looked at him curiously. He answered absentmindedly while striding around the room, looking for his shoes.

"Another victim."

"Fantastic?"

I cringed, and I watched as his body language let me know that he'd realized his choice of words. How they weren't exactly… Socially acceptable. I could almost see the walls of insecurity coming down. He was disappearing into himself. Of course he was. That's what he DID. He was the Great Sherlock Holmes. He took care of himself. He didn't let anyone in. He shut himself away, and some day, he would never come back.

"Sherlock. Don't you dare."

I didn't have to explain my words- he knew what they meant. So he just nodded, and then I was pulled up (almost violently) into his arms. He smashed his lips onto mine, his tongue immediately probing my mouth hotly, desperately. I had a half thought of '_really this isn't the best time for a snogging session' _, but then my hands moved up his chest, trying to find purchase on the purple silk fabric covering his torso. I kissed him back with equal fervor, and his long fingers laced through my hair. I made a small noise, and he answered it with one of his own before pulling away, his forehead against mine. My eyes opened slowly, and focused in on his misty colored ones. They screamed a desperate apology. His breath was coming out in soft pants, and I brushed over his lips with my thumb gently. His tongue darted out to place a gentle touch on in, making me blush for some reason. This Sherlock was mine. He was the most human person I'd ever met. He was the greatest con man in London, even fooling me into thinking how… Cold he was.

But he wasn't.

This man, the one peppering my skin with half clumsy kisses, was warm. So warm. His skin, his touches, his whispers to me. He cared. He loved. He was the opposite of even what HE thought he was. And it was so sad, that fact. How low he thought of himself. I captured his lips again, softer this time, before speaking.

"It's alright, Sherlock. Now go. I know you're itching to. I need to leave anyway."

I patted his cheek gently, and he let me down. We grabbed our coats, and he bounded down the stairs, while I took my time. When I got outside, he was already gone. I laughed, shaking my head at him. Sherlock was so… bipolar. Always switching from a sultry genius of a man, to a stubborn and gleeful child… As I was thinking this, a sleek black Bentley pulled up. I arched my eyebrows, taking in the tinted windows. The back door opened, and I smirked, realizing the car was for me. Interesting. I looked around to see if anyone was watching before ducking into the vehicle.


	10. Chapter 9

_((WHEEYHEEY two in one day? Whaat? Well, since I'm such a terrible person, and wrote these short, I figured I owed you guys. Cuz the two together equals like…. One and a half. As always, I do apologize for the shortness. I love you guys ever so much, and I will try to work on writing the next ones LONGER. Boom. That's right. Erm, this next point might be useless. You might be like 'pft, I don't give a fuck.' And if so, then okay. But whenever I read, I like to know, idk… like who wrote it. SO. Pictures of my face __**here: .com/thegirlbehindtheblog**__. That also links to my blog, where you can see how I have no life and how I have no friends. Awh yeah. Bonus. Usually I'm really quite shy and secretive about my writing, but I guess to Hell with that, yeah? Also, if you have Twitter, you can find me at ViccyKat. Send me a tweet just like… "ViccyKat BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH IS A SEX GOD". Or something about CumberOtters or Martin Freeman Hedgehogs… I will laugh for days. And yeaah, that's pretty much it. Much love. Really and truthfully. Xx- Tori))_

"Hello Rose."

I smiled, and accepted the drink that was offered to me.

"Hello Mycroft. I was wondering when I'd be seeing you again. How've you been?"

He smirked, and sipped his drink.

"I've been the same. And you, Miss O'Hara?"

He spoke my name sarcastically. I sighed.

"I've been quite well, thank you."

I looked out the window, a tense silence settling over us. I racked my mind to see if I could figure out why I was here. I hadn't seen him in a while, not since I'd moved to London. So… Why now? Had something happened? Maybe something had, and he thought that I…

"I haven't seen him, Mycroft."

I could hear the smile in his tired voice when he spoke again.

"I know."

I half laughed, and looked over him, shaking my head.

"Of course you know."

Swirling my drink, I looked around the plush, expensive car. It was just like Mycroft's taste, this was. The posh-ness of it all. I spoke again, watching him curiously, looking for any type of clue as to what he wanted from me.

"Alright. Well… Have you seen my brother lately?"

He shook his head, and that's when I noticed how truly exhausted and haggard he looked.

"No. I haven't… But I understand you've been seeing mine. Exclusively."

My eyebrows arched. Ah. Now I see.

"I'm not sure what you'd call it, but yes, Sherlock and I are… Something."

Mycroft nodded, and gave me a wan smile.

"I suppose it would be cliché to give the classic 'big brother' speech, but I feel I must… Sherlock is fragile, Miss O'Hara. He seems like he isn't, but it's the exact opposite. And I have gone through too much to secure him… To secure his wholeness, and health, and sanity… To have it ruined. To have him ruined. Sherlock is… the most important part of my life. I failed to keep him safe the first 20 years of his life, and he was almost lost for good. And I will not let that happen again. He may not think he needs me, but he does. And it would be such a shame if something were to happen to him, on my watch. I'd take care of it. Understood?"

"Crystal clear, Mycroft."

He gave me a curt bob of his head, and I gazed out the window again, wondering where in Hell we were going. So all he'd wanted was a talk? Typical.

"You know you can just come to flat for a cuppa instead of kidnapping me, right?"

Mycroft waved my words away.

"This works better for me."

I nodded, just accepting his words. He spoke again.

"So. Do you love him?"

I looked up at him, immediately sensing the alternate meaning, the accusation, behind his words. I glared at him icily, and he gazed back, unfazed.

"You know me, Mycroft. What is it? Going on 4 years now? You know to trust me, you git. I wasn't even planning on meeting Sherlock! It just HAPPENED. I can't believe you would even THINK that I'd…"

I trailed off, fuming. He smiled at me, an actual real small, a bit of affection in it.

"As spirited as always I see."

I sighed at him, and ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn't stay mad at Mycroft. He was as infuriating as Sherlock, if not more, but we'd been through too much together.

"Myc… Your brother… is amazing. It's hard of course- you know how he is. But I love it. It's… Different. He's different. And sometimes I want to kill him. But this is real, Mycroft. At least… What I feel is real. I just… Want to be normal. Although I'll admit, trying to have a relationship with Sherlock probably doesn't help... But… You don't have to worry, Mycroft. I know what you're thinking. It's false."

I finished my drink, watching him study me. He smirked at me, and cleared his throat.

"He doesn't know, does he?"

I shook my head.

"Of course not. And I plan on him never finding it out. I like to pretend it's not true myself. Got it?"

He smiled sadly at me, and gulped down the rest of his drink in a very 'non-Mycrofty' way.

"He is Sherlock. He will find out one day… But not from me, Rose. You can hold me to that."

Mycroft leaned forward to touch my knee, and I returned his unhappy smile.

"Maybe he will… Maybe he won't. But that's a risk I'm willing to take… If you can I can rid of the… "problem"…Before Sherlock catches on; it'll be the best for all of us."

Mycroft nodded stiffly.

"But he has no idea?"

I smiled.

"Not even an inkling."

The car slowed to a stop, and I noticed we were parked outside my flat.

"Good. Keep it that way."

Mycroft demanded, before opening the door for me. I stepped out onto the sidewalk, giving him a nod.

"Always a pleasure, Mr. Holmes."

He smiled almost cheekily, and inclined his head slightly towards me.

"Yes. I'll be in touch, Miss O'Hara."

Then he shut the door, and I watched the car slowly drive away.


	11. Chapter 10

((Hey you guys! Thanks for the reviews and what not, as always. And yeah, to see my face: www. Weve – gotta – kind – of – lovehate . tumblr. Com . Just remove the spaces, and then click on my FAQ… And. Yeah. Idk. My face really isn't that special, I'm just restating it cos I don't think it worked last time. This chapter is LONGER. Yay! AND Rose's secret is revealed… So yay. Xx- Tori))

I walked into my flat, thinking over my visit with Mycroft. It made me sick to think that even he had doubts about me. I just wanted to be normal. Have a normal education, friends, and home. That's why I moved from Ireland in the first place. I put on the kettle, my thoughts switching to Sherlock… Sherlock. If he found out about my past… No, that wasn't even an option. I wouldn't let that happen. Besides, as far as I could tell, there was no danger. I trusted Mycroft to take care of it if there was.

I finished making my cup of tea, and sat on my couch, popping in a season of Doctor Who. I grabbed my phone, considering sending off a text to John to see if he'd like to join. God knows he probably needed a break from Sherlock. He got… crazy (to say the least) while on cases.

_**John. You busy? I have a cup of tea and an episode of Doctor Who calling your name… - Rose**_

__John's reply came in seconds.

_**Sounds wonderful. Thank God for you, Rose. Be there in 10 - JW**_

__I smiled, and reboiled some water, waiting for him. True to his word, about ten minutes later there was a knock at the door.

"John."

I beamed, letting him in. He hugged me, and smiled, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his coat.

"Sherlock driving you up the walls?"

I questioned, disappearing to fetch his tea, and then coming back with it. John took the mug, and we sat comfortably together on the couch. He nodded.

"He's acting like a complete wanker."

I giggled.

"Well, nothing new there."

I pointed out. John chuckled, and sipped his tea, stretching out beside me.

"Just more than usual. And when he's not acting like a dick, he's acting… not himself."

I heard the hesitation in his voice, and I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

John glanced a little uneasily at me, and then looked down at his tea.

"I caught him with my computer the other day…"

I sipped my tea, my eyebrows raised in a 'so?' fashion. John cleared his throat, and continued, his voice sort of muffled as he spoke into his cup.

"He was watching porn."

I choked on my tea, my eyes widening. Sherlock? Watching porn? Ha, that's a good joke John, tell it again. After I'd recovered, I just stared at John, wide eyed, and listened to him speak.

"Yeah. Exactly. But you should've seen him… I mean, when he realized I'd seen, he shut the computer in a flash… But he wasn't even… doing anything. It looked like he was… studying it. Like he was curious… It was quite a sight, his eyebrows scrunched, and blushing madly. It was like… He's never done that stuff… And he was trying to figure out… What to do… And how to do it…"

I blushed, biting my lip.

"I don't think he has done that stuff, John. He didn't even know how to kiss… But… Don't look at me. We aren't even near that stage… If that stage would even exist between him and me."

John sighed, and nodded.

"Figured as much."

We lapsed into a silence, and sort of leaned into each other. He rubbed a sock covered foot against mine gently, and a smiled. John and I were friends. In fact, I'd call him my best friend. We both had to deal with Sherlock, we both liked the same things, and we knew we always had a… safe haven with each other. It was comfortable. Yeah, we'd dated… But it didn't seem to make things awkward at all. I felt like our friendship was rare; special.

"I have a date with Sarah tonight. From the clinic."

I smiled at John's announcement.

"Well look at you, Mr. Hot Stuff."

He chuckled and nudged me.

"Yeah. I'm excited. She's an amazing woman."

I nodded. Surprisingly, this conversation wasn't weird at all.

"I'm excited for you, John. You deserve someone like that…"

'_Someone besides Sherlock'_ was the unspoken rest of my sentence, and John knew it… Not Sherlock himself, but John deserved to get away from the stress Sherlock caused him. John smiled, and wiggled his toes.

"So, how come we always end up never watching our show?"

I giggled, and shrugged, about to respond, but was interrupted.

"I don't understand it either, John."

My head snapped round to see Sherlock standing behind the couch, hands firmly clasped behind his back. I sighed, a hand over my flying heart, and John stood, running his fingers through his hair.

"Shit, Sherlock! You can't. Keep. DOING. That!"

I saw Sherlock's eyes tighten a little, and I knew he was mentally overthinking EVERYTHING in his head.

"Doing what John? Walking into my flat? And walking into my… Rose's flat?"

John glared.

"No you prick. Walking in and just… just WATCHING all SILENTLY."

There was a brief stare down between the two men before John shook his head, and strolled to the door. I followed, watching him slip on his shoes, and then handed him his coat.

"Thanks for the tea, Rose. It was nice. Now. I've got a date to prepare for."

I half smiled, feeling the tension in the air.

"Alright. Knock her socks of, John. And let me know how it goes."

John gave me a smile, a hug, and then left. I walked back into the kitchen, feeling Sherlock's eyes burning into me.

"Tea, Sherlock?"

He huffed behind me, and I turned to see him all upset.

"Sherlock Holmes, are you pouting?"

"No."

*pout*

I sighed.

"Fine. Alright, fine. What is it?"

He sniffed, his chin held high, looking everywhere but me.

"You were… snuggled with him."

I almost laughed at how strange it was to hear the word 'snuggled' come out of Sherlock's mouth, but composed myself.

"John and I are just friends."

Sherlock's jaw clenched and he seemed to be struggling with something inside him, before finally speaking.

"Yes, but… John… John is tea and jumpers and…"

He stopped speaking, and shook his head, before starting again.

"John is everything. And I am…"

He gestured the last word to me with his hands.

_Nothing._

I frowned, and stepped towards him, then stopped when he stepped away.

"Sherlock."

I spoke firmly, giving him a look.

"Couch. Now."

I glared at him, him glaring back, until he sighed, and stomped his stubborn arse to the couch. I followed him, arms crossed. He looked like a scolded little child, all pouty and hunched over. I knelt between his long legs, making him look at me. I rubbed my thumbs over those lovely cheekbones, looking him in the eye.

"Sherlock. You are… everything. You aren't the same 'everything' as John, but you're still everything. You two are different. You are… You're scarves, and violin music, and ice… and heat… and just… everything."

I watched him swallow hard, and try to pull back.

"Rose, I can't-"

"I KNOW this is uncomfortable for you Sherlock, but fucking DEAL with it."

I snapped at him, holding his face close to mine.

"I'm yours. Not John's. And you're mine. Okay? I don't give a damn about what people say about you, or even what YOU say about yourself. I think its bullshit."

Sherlock glared at me, and I glared back, just completely frustrated with everything. It was like everyone was trying to make my own decision for me and I was just sick of it.

I pushed my lips to his, reaching up to grip his dark curls hard.

"Ahh…"

Sherlock let out a breathy noise, and I took the opportunity to push my tongue into his mouth, not letting him pull away.

"Mine."

I spoke softly when I finally pulled away, and then pressed kisses over his jaw, hearing his panting breaths.

"Mine, mine, mine."

I hissed with each touch of my lips to his skin, then pulled away to get that damned blue scarf out of the way, revealing that wonderful neck of his. His icy eyes met mine before I ducked down, kissing over the length of pale skin.

"Mine, Sherlock. Say it."

His breathing was now short, uneven gasps and his speech stuttered as I bit down, leaving red on his skin.

"Y… Yours."

I moved to the junction where his neck and shoulder met, and began with my mission of creating a mark.

"Mine."

Sherlock let out a soft whimper, and started up a chant of "Yours, yours, yours." I pulled away from his neck when I was satisfied with the bruise I'd made on his skin. Tracing it lightly with a fingertip, I looked up and smiled at him. He was gripped the back of the couch, eyes wide. Good. He needed this message engraved in his head. I kissed his cheek gently, whispering "Mine" softly into his ear. He shivered before nodding quickly.

"Yours."

Sherlock stayed for a bit longer. After letting him calm down a bit, I got him some tea, which he sipped quietly.

While holding my hand.

It made me feel… All warm inside, having him hold my hand. He was choosing to create physical contact between us.

"It's six. I need to go."

I nodded at his words, and stood with him. He pulled on his coat.

"I'm going with John on his date."

I frowned.

"Uh, like HELL you are."

He sighed.

"Calm down. It's for the case. He'll have to deal with it."

I shook my head at him, wondering how John put up with this man child.

"Right. Okay."

Sherlock reached for his scarf, but hesitated, and I watched as he touched the mark on his neck gently, a small sort of fond smile on his face.

"Did… Did you ever give John these?"

I laughed softly, and shook my head before taking his scarf and arranging it around his neck.

"No. I didn't. Now… Go… Save London, or whatever it is that you do."

He gave me a crooked smile.

"Actually that's pretty accurate."

I rolled my eyes, and pushed him towards the door.

"Good night, Sherlock. And please, try your best NOT to ruin John's date!"

"No promises!"

He took the stairs down two at a time and I closed the door behind him.

That night, John and Sherlock ended up in fist fights, almost losing their lives, and solving the case. Typical night for them apparently. And poor Sarah was there along for the ride. I didn't really see a second date for her and John… I felt bad for John, but then again… Any girl he dated would have to be able to handle stuff like that… so…

Yeah, I felt bad for John.

Weeks passed, turning into months, and things were pretty normal. (Well, as "normal" as usual.) I managed to force Sherlock into going to Greg's with me one night. Greg had invited us all over to watch some football, and of course Sherlock threw a hissy fit about it… But, I managed to make him. He was all sulky part of the time, but a bit of the time I saw him actually smiling. So that has to count for SOMETHING, right?

Our relationship was still moving slowly, but ever since that day in my flat, something had changed. Sherlock wasn't as tense anymore when I was around John. And occasionally, if we were both in the lab or the morgue, he'd come up behind me and whisper a soft "Mine" or "Yours" in my ear. (Of course, it was usually "Mine" because that man has an ego the size of England. But hey, I'll take what I'm given.) It was baby steps, but it was good. So good…

Until the day my worst nightmare walked through the door.

I was working diligently in the lab when Molly rushed in.

"Hey, Rose. I've gotta run these samples up to Dr. Wooley. I'll be right back, I swear, but I've got a lunch date and I told him to meet me here. If he comes can you tell him I'll be right back?"

I agreed cheerfully, glad that Molly had found someone. It'd been awkward with the whole… Sherlock… thing. She left, and sure enough, a few minutes later I heard the door open. I was bent over my microscope as the visitor spoke.

"Hi… Is Molly Hooper in?"

I finished writing down my observations, smiling at the man's accent. An Irishman? Atta girl, Molls.

"Yes, she'll be right back, you must be-"

I turned around, and froze, seeing the man in the doorway. He wore a smirk on his face as he studied me.

_No… no, no, no… Please… God, no._

The man laughed a light, airy, oh so familiar laugh, and spoke again.

"What, not happy to see me?"

"Jim-"

My voice came out strangled, and I shut up, fighting to control it. Fear was coursing through my body. He smirked again, and I wanted to smack it off his fucking face. His next words scared me even more.

"Hello Sis. It's just wonderful to see you again."


	12. Chapter 11

((I apologize for the wait! I've been so busy with the musical; its opening this week- tonight in fact. I'm home today though for a few hours so I'm rushing to type this out. Thanks so much for all your alerts! I hope you're enjoying this story, and I'm not letting you down! Xx – Tori.))

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I forced myself to think through my shock, staring at him.

"Jim… What are you doing here?"

He smiled, and approached me, looking around.

"I thought it was time for a visit, my dear Rosie. Come now, give Jimmy a hug."

He embraced me tightly, and I stood there, tense. The familiar scent overwhelmed me, and memories came crashing through.

_Me a clumsy, chubby 4 year old, falling in the playground. Crying because of my skinned knee. 7 year old Jim, taking me by the hand, comforting me._

_ 8 year old me, just woken up from a nightmare. Rushing into my big brother's room. Cuddling with him as he told me stories to make me feel better._

_ Him cooing to me that everything would be alright as we hid in the closet. Dad had come home raging drunk. That was after Mum had died._

_ 10 year old me sick with a nasty bout of the flu. 13 year old Jim spoon fed me chicken noodle soup. If I recall correctly, Jim then attempted to sing, juggle, and do cartwheels, all just to make me smile._

_ … I was 14, Jim was 17. I caught him in the midst of slicing his forearm open. I patched him up, and held him as he cried._

At some time, he'd been the perfect big brother. But now…

"It's you, isn't it? The bomber."

I whispered, and Jim smiled, his eyes lighting up.

"You're such a smart girl, Rosie."

I swallowed hard, shaking my head.

"You have to stop. Please, you can't… Why… Why are you-"

"It's so FUN, Rosie, dear. And HE is so beautiful. Isn't he? Sherlock I mean. He's so wonderful to watch, so lovely. Don't you think?"

I tensed, staring at him. Of course. This was all about Sherlock. Jim giggled at the look on my face, and tutted to himself.

"I'm your big brother, Rose. And he's your new beau, is he not? I need to approve of him, Cupcake. Now. I have a date with Molly tonight. Sherlock will be FAR too busy with this case to see you. So I've decided I'll be staying at your flat. We DO need sibling bonding time after all, yeah? Now, run along little sister."

I obeyed him immediately, grabbing my coat, and all but sprinting down the halls of St. Bart's. I threw open the door, and ran straight into-

"Sh… Sherlock."

He held me still, his eyes immediately narrowing and raking over me as he studied me. I tried to compose myself, but failed as I was currently blinking back tears.

"Rose? What's happened?"

His large hands fluttered over me, but weren't quite touching me. I could tell Sherlock was in overdrive, not knowing how to handle all this. Tears fell don my cheeks, and Sherlock's pale eyes went wide.

"Family emergency, Sherlock. Nothing to worry about."

"But you're crying."

I pulled away from him, but then stepped close, and kissed him with all I had. I didn't give a damn who saw. My life had just unraveled, and all I knew was that I was probably going to somehow lose this beautiful wonderful man. His long, cold fingers brushed over my cheeks, his thumbs clearing away my tears. I pulled away to look at him.

"Sherlock Holmes. I love you. And I know you can't say it back but I don't care. It's okay. It's alright. I love you. And you need to know that."

He stared at me, a look of blatant shock on his face. If I hadn't been so panicked I probably snogged it off him. But instead I just gave his hands a squeeze, and ran out of St. Bart's, pulling out my phone. Id realized I'd started crying again, and I madly wiped at my cheeks. I couldn't keep the sobs out of my voice when I spoke to whom Id called.

"M… Mycroft."

I managed to choke out, saying his name like a prayer. I heard the pain and tightness in his voice when he replied.

"Already?"

He didn't have to ask about the nature of my call. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Just protect Sherlock and John. For God's sake, Myc, whatever you do. Protect them. Please."

There was a pause, and then my oldest friend spoke again, quietly.

"I will."

I hung up, and hailed a cab, trying to clean myself up a bit.

_ Be brave, Rose. Be brave, be strong, be cunning, be smart. Be a Moriarty. And beat your brother._

It was around 8 when Jim arrived. We ended up on my couch, drinking tea. I wanted to laugh at how NORMAL everything seemed. My brother, the world's most dangerous criminal, was sitting on my couch in sweats and a tshirt, not a care in the world. I wanted to throw my fucking tea in his face.

"So how've you been Rosie?"

I sighed, and looked at him.

"Actually, I was quite wonderful until you showed up."

Jim sighed.

"You know you missed me."

I swallowed, and looked down into my tea.

"I missed my BROTHER. Not whoever you are."

Silence.

I got up, and took our cups to the kitchen, then came back. He was watching me, a curious look on his face. I looked away, standing in the doorway, my arms crossed.

"I tried, Rosie. I did. All I've ever done is try to be good for you. Father was never there after Mummy died, and so I took his place. We've only ever had each other. We need each other. You're my baby sister. The… Only person I've… Consistently cared for… And…"

He trailed off, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. There was silence again, and I studied my brother. He looked… like Jim again. Timid, and caring, and quiet, but with a sort of fierceness in his eyes. He looked normal again. At least for now.

So I sighed, walked to him, and then held out my hand for him to take.

"C'mon Jim. Bedtime."

We went to my small bedroom, and layed beside each other, just like we did when we were kids. He all but fell into bed, stretching, and smiled when I curled up next to him.

"I haven't had a real, comfortable bed in a long time."

Jim murmured softly. I sniffled and replied.

"You look exhausted. Sleep."

He nodded, closing his eyes. It was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke again.

"Rosie? Do you… Remember that time when you… You helped me after you found me… Harming myself?"

I was quiet, and nodded slowly in the darkness.

"Yes."

Jim spoke again, his voice soft.

"Id… been trying to keep it hidden… I was the stable factor in your life… And if you found out I WASN'T stable, I was… Afraid you'd… you wouldn't love me. And you'd think I was a freak, like everyone else. But when you found me, you cleaned me up, and let me cry… You told me you loved me, and said I was amazing and wonderful… And I shouldn't let that ignorant scum get to me because I was going to make so much out of myself. And I believed you, Rosie… So… I DID make something. I'm James Moriarty, Consulting Criminal. My web of work stretches all over the world. I have enough money and protection to live out the rest of my days safely in Buckingham Palace if I wanted to. My name struck fear in even YOUR mind, and that's something I'm proud of. I've made a king of myself. And I have you to thank for that."

I was frozen after his speech. Jim cuddled his arm body to me, and within a few minutes he was asleep. I stared into the black abyss of my ceiling, wide awake. Jim would have his war if he wanted it. And in the end, I knew it would either be me, Jim, or Sherlock in the end. This WOULD end. One way or another. I studied Jim again. He looked so small and harmless asleep. I took his hand gently, holding it. There was only a little of my brother left. And I'd use it up until it disappeared.


	13. Chapter 12

"I have a plan, Rosie. And I need your help."

Jim piped up over breakfast. I watched him warily as I ate my eggs, waiting for elaboration. He just smiled at me, and finished his breakfast quickly.

"C'mon sis. We've got a lot to prepare for tonight!"

I reluctantly followed him outside, where he had a car waiting. No surprise there. We got in, and then we were off.

A flat in the middle of London. So obvious, yet hidden away. That's where Jim now lived. He dragged me in eagerly, and the minute the door closed he began shouting for a 'Seb'. Suddenly a man appeared, big and tall, with blonde hair and light brown eyes. He was attractive, that was for sure.

"There you are Sebby!"

My brother grinned, and hugged the man close. 'Seb' returned the hug, burying his face into Jim's neck. There were soft exchanges of 'I missed you's, and it was so… loving that I felt as if I was intruding on a private moment… They broke apart after a moment, and Jim turned to me.

"Seb, this is my sister, Rose. Rose, this is my… my Seb."

I smiled at Jim's words, noting how he was holding Seb's hand. I knew my brother was gay; he had been for a long time. But he'd been alone. He'd never had someone. Seb gave me a crooked grin.

"Sebastian Moran. Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

I looked curiously at Jim. He'd talked about me?

"Rose Moriarty."

I answered his greeting. Jim clapped his hands together gleefully, and spoke.

"Alright. Seb, can you help my sister with some target practice? And beware: she's a crack shot. She just needs to get the hang of it again, and she'll be perfect."

My eyes widened.

"Target practice?"

And that's how I ended up on the balcony at the pool that night.

"Jim I swear I'll kill you if anything happens to him."

I hissed into my mic, knowing Jim would hear in his earpiece. He'd told me only that Sherlock would be meeting him here tonight, and he "just needed me for insurance." What KIND of 'insurance'? I didn't know. But I was on one side of the balcony, and Seb was across the arena on the other, our snipers balanced. I was forcing my nerves away. It was just a gun. And Jim would NEVER make me harm Sherlock. I WOULDN'T harm him. And if I had to get hurt, I could get a good shot in before. Right?

I was just insurance.

The door opened downstairs, and I watched Sherlock walk in. Jim didn't appear. Why not? Sherlock began talking, but I was raking my eyes over the area, looking for my brother. What was he playing at?

Suddenly a door to the side opened, and I found out EXACTLY what my older brother was playing at.

John walked out, and I frowned. What was…?

"John…?"

I could hear the fear in Sherlock's voice. John took off his coat, and my heart stopped. I let out a sort of strangled gasp, immediately snapping my mouth shut to muffle it. He was covered in blinking semtex. My heart was flying, and my eyes started filling with tears.

_No… No… Bomb…. John… Bomb… No… Sherlock… John…_

I looked up, and met Sebastian's eyes from all the way across the room. He shook his head at me, and I understood the look in his eyes. It said 'don't panic. It's okay'.

I forced myself to do as Seb did, and pointed my rifle down at John, trying not to shake. I had a gun. I could protect him and Sherlock.

"…I could stop John Watson too… Stop his heart."

"I gave you my number. Thought you might call."

I listened to my brother's taunting voice as he slowly sauntered out into view. I listened to him talk, listened to him tease Sherlock, FLIRT with him for God's sake… But I was focused more on Sebastian and John… I just needed to focus on the dangerous people.

"… That's what people **DO**."

I jumped, startled… Then whimpered when John tackled Jim. In a flash, Seb turned his gun to Sherlock, fear in his eyes. Fear for Jim. Equal to my fear for John and Sherlock.

John lets go.

"If you don't stop prying… I will burn you. I will burn the **heart** out of you."

"I have been informed that I don't have one."

Jim flicked his eyes up to meet mine, then looked back to Sherlock, smiling.

"But we both know that's not quite true."

I froze, realizing that Jim didn't NEED to kill neither John nor Sherlock… He had his weapon that would do it for him, one way or another.

Me.

And that's when everything went black.

I awoke in a big warm fluffy bed. I looked around, confused, and noticed Sebastian was sitting beside me in a chair. He smiled at me warmly.

"Hey there Sleeping Beauty. You alright?"

I swallowed hard, and nodded.

"Head hurts."

Seb smirked, and handed me some pills and a glass of water.

"Knew you'd say that. You hit your head hard when you fainted."

I swallowed the pills, starting to remember…

"Are… Are they okay?"

He nodded, a strange look on his face.

"Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are perfectly fine. Probably back in their flat and sleeping as they speak."

I sniffled, and managed a weak smile.

"Sherlock doesn't sleep. And John wont tonight… He'll have nightmares…"

I looked down, and continued.

"What about Jim?"

Sebastian chuckled.

"Jim is in the kitchen… He insisted on making dinner."

I arched my eyebrows, worried.

"Erm… Jim cant-"

"Cook? Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I've got emergency food."

I laughed softly, looking fondly at Seb. I liked him. He sort of reminded me of John in a … strange sort of… way…

"So. How did you meet my brother?"

Seb smiled a small smile at my question.

"He found me, actually. I wouldn't say we 'met'… I'd just gotten kicked out of the military… And I was depressed, suicidal… going insane. Like your dear Dr. Watson, I needed the war. I needed the action and fight, having a gun in my hand and shooting… Feeling the power, the control… And one night, I'd just come out of a bar on the corner, and I was just walking and suddenly he just rammed into me, running out of an alley. He looked terrified, and begged me to help him… Said there was someone after him… And sure enough I heard footsteps and I… Just pulled out my gun and shot… meant to protect him the whole time I guess. It was like fate.

Of course, turns out that Jim had been watching me, wanting me for weeks, months even. And the guy Id shot had been a police officer… Jim had it all planned out… But nevertheless, he… he saved me. Really he did. I was so lost and alone. And then he just forced himself into my life with that brilliant brain of his, and… I'll never leave him. We saved each other really. He was as much of a mess as I was. He gives me crazy and action and fun and I give him calm and peace and a laugh. And we have each other."

I smiled at Sebastian's words.

"Erm… Are you two…?"

"Shagging?" He chuckled. "Yeah. We are. I'm not sure you could call it a relationship though, what with our minds and personalities… But… We love each other. Not sure why HE loves ME, but… I'll follow him to the ends of the Earth if I have to. He's… mine. All I want. All I need."

I sighed, and sat up.

"My brother loves you, Sebastian. I can tell. The only person he's ever loved before has been me. And our childhood cat, but he'll deny it. He loves you. Believe me."

At that moment, Jim flounced in.

"Rosie! You're up! I was just coming in to tell Seb that dinner's ready! I'll bring it in!"

He spoke quickly, and then rushed out, grinning. I sighed, and shook my head.

"He's a special child. I apologize."

Seb laughed, and then helped prop me up with pillows. Jim cam back with chicken soup, which I ate quickly and was surprisingly delicious. (I later found the cans in the bin, but hey, it's the thought that counts right?). Dinner passed quickly, and soon we'd all said goodnight. I layed in bed, thinking. Seb had said John and Sherlock were okay. I was Jim's weapon. But in what way? I wouldn't be forced to do anything, and Jim knew it. So. That left the question of what KIND of weapon I was.

I eventually fell into a fitful sleep, waking up around 2 to take more pain meds. I groggily made my way into the bathroom, and took two. As I walked back out into my temporary bedroom, I heard a crash. I froze, my mind immediately trying to jump out of its sleepy state.

Another crash.

I flicked my eyes around my room, debating.

Razor blades in the shower, cords from the curtain, heavy lamp with a point base, gun under my pillow…

Gun.

Gun?

Gun.

I didn't have time to ponder WHY Id stashed the gun there, or the disturbing direction my mind went, or how fucking EASY it was to think like this, to fall back into the old and familiar train of thought. I just grabbed the gun, and creeped down the hallway, following the noises. I tracked them to my brother's room, and I opened the door slowly, silently.

It scared me.

Jim was pacing around, clutching his head, shaking. Shrieking a mantra of:

**"No… no… NO. GET OUT! Stop… No…. OUT. GET FUCKING OUT!"**

Every now and then he would stop and throw something at the wall, panting. Blood flowed down his right forearm, and I realized it was most likely from something he'd purposely done.

A hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I almost yelped, but a hand was pulled over my mouth. It turned to see Sebastian standing there. He gestured for me to be quiet before stepping into the room. I watched fearfully, my heart flying. Seeing Jim like this terrified me. It reminded me of the fits he used to have when we were younger. I could never fix them.

"Boss… It was just a bad dream… It's alright."

Sebastian spoke, walking carefully towards my brother. Jim stared at him like an animal cornered, hiccupping.

"I can't… It wasn't... Seb, please… Shoot me… Do it. Please. Anything… It won't stop… Please, I need you to…"

Sebastian shook his head, moving slowly.

"I won't do that Boss. It's alright, really."

Jim flinched, and exploded into a screaming, shrieking, blubbering mess. He was scratching and clawing at Sebastian.

**"NO. DO IT. SHOOT ME. PLEASE. YOU FUCKING BASTARD WHY WON'T YOU JUST SHOOT. ME.?"**

I flinched, eyes wide. Suddenly Sebastian reached out and grabbed Jim by the hair, yanking him to the ground. Jim let out a strangled yell of pain, but clung to Sebastian's legs, whimpering.

"Please, Sebby, please."

Seb looked over at me, almost regretfully, before yanking Jim up by his hair, ignoring his yelp of pain, and promptly smacked him hard in the face. My gasp was covered by Jim's, and Sebastian smacked him again and again, rattling his small body by his hair, before throwing him to the ground like a rag doll.

Jim crawled to him, curling up to his feet, sobbing, gasping.

"Oh yes… Thank you… Thank you Sebby…"

I watched the tall man scoop up Jim's tiny frame from the floor, and coddle him to his chest.

"Shhh, Jim… Is alright now."

Sebastian cooed gently, and Jim sniffled, snuggling into him, hiccupping.

"Thank you Sebby… Thank you for punishing me… My beautiful soldier…"

I swallowed the thick lump in my throat, and realized I was crying. I wiped my tears as Sebastian tucked Jim into bed after cleaning up his cut arm.

"Got to sleep, Jimmy. I'll be right back okay? I'll get us some… things. Okay?"

He planted a kiss on his lips, and my brother sank back into his bed, looking bruised, but calm. Seb walked out, and I stepped back, staring wide eyed.

"What was that?"

Seb sighed, and put his hand on the small of my back gently, leading me back to my room.

"Nightmares. Stress. His brain is too much for him. He holds it all in until he just… explodes into that."

I sniffled.

"Fit for a bomber."

Sebastian smiled tiredly, chuckling a bit.

"Yes, I suppose so. Now… Go back to sleep. Jim and I will be downstairs… Erm… taking care of things-"

"You mean shagging."

Seb nodded, looking sheepish.

"It comforts him. It helps him."

I nodded, looking Sebastian over. He looked exhausted. How many times did he have to calm Jim down like that? How many times did he have to watch the man he loved go through that? I hugged him tight, knowing it surprised him, but I hugged him anyway. He hesitated, but then hugged me back.

"Goodnight Rose."

"Goodnight Sebastian."

I watched him walk off and I crawled into my bed. Jim was far worse off than I thought… But now I knew his weakness. I nursed the thought to myself, trying to find comfort in it. Somehow I'd let Sherlock know. And maybe at least he and John would get out of this game alive.


	14. Chapter 13

_((Hi guys! I've recently gotten a lot of new alerts on this story and I just wanted to say hi to all the new people! I hope you're all enjoying this story, and I pray that I don't disappoint you guys! This chapter was hard for me to write, so I apologize if it's… not okay. I really do. And I ask you guys to stick with it! Reviews, suggestions, and just little 'hallo's are always welcome! I love you guys so much! I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes. I'm going to watch Third Star tonight, and so my brain is busy preparing myself for that instead of focusing on writing in correct English. :/ xx – Tori.))_

I was allowed to go back home the next day. Jim was happy with how things went, and he and Sebastian would be busy for a while, taking care of 'other business'.

"I'll be watching, though, Rosie. Gotta keep an eye on you. I'll be back soon, alright? Ta!"

He spoke cheerfully as I got out of his car. I walked up to my flat shakily, unlocking my door, just thinking one thing: Jim would come back. The lock clicked, and I stepped into the room… And was immediately ambushed. Long limbs wrapped around me, clinging to me, and I felt soft curls brush my face.

"Sh… Sherlock…"

I gasped, my heart flying. He'd scared the shit out of me. He pulled away, and grabbed my face, looking me over.

"You didn't come home last night. Where were you? Whose car was that?"

I listened to him rattle off questions, wide eyed. I didn't know what excuse to give him.

"I'm fine, Sherlock… Where's John? Is he alright?"

Id calmed down enough to notice that Sherlock was in grey cotton pants and a t-shirt, a ratty blue silk robe on as well. Pajamas.

"Did you sleep here last night?"

Sherlock nodded.

"John couldn't go back to 221b… He'd been kidnapped… And I wasn't going to just leave him alone to go somewhere like Sarah's… So we came here."

I looked around, nodding.

"Is he in my bedroom? Where'd you sleep?"

There were no signs of anyone sleeping in the living room, yet Sherlock still at bedhead and a somewhat bleary look on his face. He'd just woken up. So where…

"Did you sleep with him?"

Sherlock looked away from my amused gaze, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Only to help keep away his nightmares…"

I smiled a bit, looking him over.

"You're a good man, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock looked at me quickly, startled. He had the same expression on his face that he'd had when Id told him I loved him. I watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, contemplating what to say. I just smiled at him.

"I'm going to go check on John, and then I'll make some breakfast, alright?"

He nodded, brushing the back of his hand against my cheek softly, before stepping back. I walked into my room quietly. John was curled into the fetal position, covers tangled up. He was frowning.

"John?"

I spoke softly, and sat by his side. He tensed in his sleep, but relaxed when I began to stroke his hair.

"John, its Rose. Time to get up, Love."

I watched him slowly wake up, and when I finally got him to sit, he winced in pain.

"Your shoulder bothering you? Here… Let me…"

I was no doctor, but I'd acted as one for most of my life, what with Jim as my older brother, so I began to massage the old wound, putting a firm pressure on it. John gasped in pain, pushing his fist into his mouth and biting. I cringed at his reaction, knowing how it hurt, but continued with my hands, trying to work the tension out. He was tense the entire time, his free hand gripping the sheets tightly. Sherlock walked in, talking about some sort of nonsense, but stopped and frowned when he saw us on the bed together. I shot him a look over John's shoulder that clearly said 'Be Nice', and he sighed.

"I knew your shoulder would be hurting, after last night."

John gave Sherlock a tight smile.

"Might not wanna say things like that, 'Lock. People will talk."

Sherlock smirked at John's remark.

"Let me finish with your shoulder. Rose can make breakfast."

I smiled a bit, and switched off with Sherlock, who immediately began kneading John's shoulder. Luckily the pain was already wearing off, and Sherlock's strong hands didn't hurt too much.

"Now people will definitely talk."

I heard John murmur as I left. I laughed softly, and made my way into the kitchen.

"He had you, didn't he? That's the only explanation…"

I looked up at Sherlock from across the table. Hadn't even finished breakfast yet, and he was pouncing.

"Sorry?"

Sherlock sighed at me, his eyes tight.

"You were worried about us when you came home. Especially worried for John. You had no reason to be worried unless you knew he'd been strapped to a bomb all night. You've also been gone for 2 days, without a call to anyone."

I hesitated before sighing, and nodding. Sherlock stood, fists clenched.

"What did he do to you?"

"Sherlock…"

John's soft warning cut through the tension, and I saw him touch Sherlock's arm, but Sherlock shook him off.

"What. Did. He. DO.?"

"Nothing. Nothing, he did nothing, okay? I'm fine. I promise. You can check. He treated me quite well actually."

John watched, wide eyed, at how calm I was. Sherlock, on the other hand, was visibly shaking. And I was hit with how I was my brother's weapon. How I was Sherlock's heart. Or- I was half of it. John and I were Sherlock's everything. We were Sherlock. And if anything happened to us, it would kill Sherlock.

"I think I'll… Have a shower."

John murmured, and stood.

"Okay. Straight in through that door, John."

He smiled at me.

"Thank you Rose. For putting up with us."

He pressed a soft kiss to my temple, and Sherlock made a noise of obvious annoyance. John chuckled, shaking his head, and walked to the bathroom. The second the door closed, Sherlock bounded across the room to me, his eyes sweeping over my body.

"You swear you're alright?"

I nodded.

"Perfectly fine."

He swallowed hard, and when he spoke his voice was lower than normal.

"He didn't… Touch you…Did he?"

I shook my head.

"Erm… He's GAY, Sherlock. He's got a boyfriend. Kind of."

Sherlock laughed softly, kneeling in front of me, and laying his head in my lap, his large hands traveling up and down my thighs.

"But he likes you. He must. You ARE alive after all."

I swallowed hard, my fingers sifting through his dark curls. He let out a soft, contented sigh.

"I… I missed you."

His words sounded unsteady, as if unsure; his voice was soft. I smiled half-heartedly. Those words said the things his body language showed, but he didn't want to admit.

'_I missed you. I was worried about you. I was thinking about you. I was scared for you. For me. For us.'_

"I missed you too, Love."

It was silent for a bit, and Sherlock stayed where he was, as if perfectly happy in the comfortable position he was in. I was about to insist we at least move to the couch when he spoke.

"You said you loved me."

I nodded, swallowing hard.

"Because I do."

He looked up at me, his eyes shining. They were a greenish color today, with flecks of silvery blue on the outside, while liquid amber swam right along the inside ring round his pupils. His lips were parted slightly, a smirk lurking in the corner. Beautiful. Those lips quirked into a slightly blinding smile, and he nodded.

"Okay."

I nodded back.

"Okay."

He sniffled, and played with my fingers.

"I suppose the correct thing to do is to say it back."

I smiled a bit.

"I know you cant. It's alright."

He looked away, opening his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I ran my thumb over his left cheekbone gently, feeling his soft skin.

"Sherlock, really. Just… be yourself. Don't try to be anyone you aren't for me. Just know that I do love you."

He stared at me for a few moments before nodding slowly. I stood, and began to clear the table, washing the dishes. He remained on the floor for a bit, and I could feel his eyes on me. I began humming softly to myself, getting into a pattern in my dish washing. There was rustling behind me, and I was a tad startled when the smooth sound of a violin joined into my humming.

I smiled, peaking at Sherlock. Of course he'd brought that ruddy violin. It was his most prized possession. He had his eyes closed, pacing in slow circles, playing even when Id stopped humming. The light coming in from the windows shone around him, making him look celestial. He looked… at peace. I listened to him play, and continued washing and drying the dishes.

If I concentrated hard enough I could come up with an insane fantasy where this was normal. Where Jim didn't exist, and Sherlock was free of his inner demons. It would be a Sunday and I would be making lunch… And Sherlock would try to help even though he can't cook… And John would come over along with Greg and Molly, and we'd-

My dreams were cut off by a few short raps on the front door. I frowned, and began to walk to answer it when Sherlock stopped me.

"Wait…. It might be him…"

"I seriously doubt he would just knock on the door, Sherlock."

Nevertheless, he was insistent, so I ended up letting him go answer the damn door, and there was... Mycroft?

I met his eyes over Sherlock's shoulder as Sherlock glared at him.

"What do you want, Mycroft? How did you know I was here? Tell me you don't have Rose's house bugged."

Mycroft smirked, and stepped into my flat, looking round distastefully as if for the first time.

"Merely checking in on you, my dear little brother."

Sherlock sneered at him.

"I don't need you to CHECK on me!"

Mycroft just walked about the room, twirling that dammed absurd umbrella of his. I had to be proud of his acting. Sherlock had no knowledge of Mycroft and I's friendship, and he couldn't know.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your, erm… _**girlfriend?**_"

He dragged out the last word and judging by the look on Sherlock's face… I might have to call Lestrade, because a murder was DEFINITELY going to happen… Sherlock flared pointedly at Mycroft, fuming.

"Now, now, Sherlock. She needs to be introduced to your family."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, huffing sullenly, then layed on the couch. I shook Mycroft's outstretched hand.

"Mycroft Holmes. Pleased to meet you."

I returned his greeting, squeezing his hand gently, smiling at him, letting him know I was okay. I knew that's what he'd really come here for. I watched his tight, worried eyes relax slightly, and he nodded.

"So you're alright Sherlock? Where's Dr. Watson?"

"LEAVE, MYCROFT."

Sherlock bellowed, his voice muffled form pressing his face into the couch cushions.

"John's in the shower."

I murmured softly. Mycroft nodded, and silently pulled an envelope out of his suit pocket. He handed it to me, squeezing my hand comfortingly, before speaking.

"Well I'll be off. It was lovely meeting you Rose."

He kissed the top of my hand gently, and I heard Sherlock snort. I smiled at Mycroft affectionately.

"You too, Mycroft."

He nodded, and gave a last condescending look at his brother before leaving. I turned to face Sherlock, who was lying flat, face down on the couch.

"I didn't realize I was dating a five year old."

Sherlock mumbled a retort to my jab, but it was too muffled to be heard. I glared at him, and then turned when John came in.

"Did I just hear Mycroft-?"

Sherlock interrupted John, and spoke, using his snarkiest tone.

"Oh look. John seems to have the decency to stay away from my brother whilst wearing only a towel. Bravo. Of course, no sense in getting dressed now. We're all used to your nakedness. I'm sure Rose is VERY familiar."

"Sherlock!"

I gasped at him. John's jaw had dropped, his blue eyes wide.

"What… What are you… Sherlock…. The Hell do you think…"

He was sufficiently sputtering now, and I marched over to the sulking man on my couch, pissed.

"Up."

When he didn't move, I smacked his bum hard, making him yelp.

"UP."

He slowly got up, sniffling, his entire facial expression one big pout.

"Bedroom, Sherlock. And you will STAY there. Until I fucking say so. Got it? I don't know why you're being such an insufferable prick today, but it's a lot worse than normal. You're acting like a toddler for Heaven's sake!"

Sherlock whimpered, looking from me to John, connecting the dots that he wouldn't be around to 'supervise us' or whatever the hell he did.

"Rose-"

"Go, Sherlock."

He bit his lip, and crossed his long arms in front of his chest, before spinning round and stomping into my room. Throwing a proper tantrum then, lovely. I waited until the door closed, and then turned to John.

"Right, so, tea?"

I moved into the kitchen, busying myself, feeling John's stare. I made the mistake of making eye contact with him, and we immediately dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"Oh… My… Did you… Just put… SHERLOCK… into… TIME. OUT?"

John gasped out. I nodded, wiping tears from my eyes.

"Oh my God, I think I did… Now… Go… Go get dressed."


	15. Chapter 14

_((__**WARNING: And suddenly, A WILD SEXUAL ENCOUNTER APPEARS!**__ This chapter was hard to write, as it's extremely difficult (to me) to capture how Sherlock would feel about physical things like this. So… It might be a tad mixed up and confusing, but I'd imagine that's how Sherlock would feel/act as well. As always, unbeta-ed, so I apologize for mistakes. xx- Tori ))_

That night I insisted the boys stay again. I think they thought I was scared, but honestly, I was just worried something would happen to them if they went back to 221b. John chose to sleep on the couch. He'd said it was "so he could keep watch". He DID have a gun after all. (So did I… But… John of course didn't know that.) Despite what excuses John gave, I knew it was just so he wouldn't wake Sherlock with his nightmares, and so he had access to a good cuppa in the middle of the night when the dreams woke him. Of course, John was John, and he was just as stubborn as Sherlock, so I let him sleep where he wanted to while I slept in my room.

"Goodnight, Rose."

I turned to look at the small man curled up on my couch. He smiled at me, a small smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. He looked so exhausted, and it broke my heart. The poor man comes back from one battlefield, and gets thrown straight into another. Even if it fixed him, it still hurt him.

"Goodnight, John."

I walked into my room and got ready for bed, listening to the running shower across the hall. As I got into my bed, the water shut off and I heard Sherlock rummaging around in the bathroom. Closing my eyes, I sighed softly, trying to find peace in the comfort of my bed and the familiar smell of my flat.

"Ahem."

My eyes flew open at the soft sound, and I watched a timid looking Sherlock step into my room. I smiled at him, and ushered him over to me.

"Come to bed."

Sherlock eyed me warily, and I thought he might refuse, but then he walked to me slowly, and curled up under the covers. I turned to face him, and he looked down, away from my gaze.

"Sherlock?"

I whispered, watching a droplet of water fall from a stray, still wet, curl. He let out a slow, shuddering breath, before lunging forward towards me, his lips finding mine. I didn't kiss back for a moment out of pure shock and confusion, but he was persistent. His hands moved into my hair, and my head was suddenly pulled back. I gasped, feeling his lips on my neck. Fuck, this felt nice.

"Sh… Sherl…"

I couldn't finish my sentence, and let out a soft whimper as his teeth brushed over my skin. After a minute or two, Sherlock pulled back, looking proudly at the mark he'd made on my skin. I stared up at him, my eyes searching his for an explanation. He sighed, and ducked back down to kiss me softly.

"John could've been killed, Rose. And… And I knew Moriarty had you too. When you didn't come back, I thought maybe…"

He was calm and strong looking, but his deep voice wavered a bit as he spoke.

"I tried not to let John know my thoughts. I knew he'd worry too much."

I nodded, and stroked his curls gently.

"I'm fine, Sherlock."

It was quiet for a moment, and I focused on trying to get my heart rate down. Then Sherlock spoke again.

"Did you and John ever have sex?"

My mind went blank for a second before his words caught up with me.

"I… _What_?"

Sherlock just sniffled, and continued.

"Did you? John usually does with his girlfriends…"

I shook my head quickly.

"No. We didn't."

It was quiet again, and I felt those long violinists's fingers brush over my hip, ducking underneath my pajama bottoms. Soft lips brushed my ear, and I heard his baritone fill my head.

"Would you like to?"

My eyes widened as he spoke, his large hands sliding up and down my sides under my loose shirt.

"I want to be good for you, Rose. I… I want to please you. I could, you know. I could please you, more than any other man ever has, or ever will. You… You drive me absolutely mad... I can't get away from these feelings and… I have this… _want_ for you. A need. And it won't go away, no matter what I do."

I swallowed hard, finding my throat suddenly dry.

"Sherlock… I don't think you-"

"Sex doesn't s_care_ me, Rose."

I smirked a bit at the defiance in his voice, and then sighed.

"Maybe not. But that doesn't mean you're ready. You've never done any of this before!"

Sherlock groaned, exasperated.

"_Yes_. But I've done _research_."

I laughed softly. Ah yes, the "research" John had told me about.

"I'm afraid research might not help you in this, Love."

He swallowed, looking at me, his eyes silvery in the faint light coming into my room from outside.

"Do you… Do you not want me? Because I'm inexperienced?"

I frowned.

"Of course I want you…"

I could feel my cheeks heating up as I realized how true my words were… I stuttered along, trying to stop from imagining how it would be with him. What would he act like? Would he like it? What if he didn't?

"John is in the living room, Sherlock!"

He sighed, and nodded.

"… I know… It's just… You're here, and alive, but my mind won't stop racing… And… You _love_ me, and no one's ever loved me before…. And… I'm… I want… I don't know what to do."

In a split second, I made my decision.

_ Lord, I hope this goes well._

"Okay, Sherlock… Let me… You've got to be quiet, Love, got it?"

He nodded quickly, obediently, and I told him I'd be right back as I got up. I walked into my bathroom to get some lotion, and stopped to stare at myself in the mirror.

_Right. So. Sherlock trust you enough to do these things with you. Wonderful. You're the sister to his worst enemy. Lovely. Don't you dare hurt him, Rose._

I sighed at my thoughts, and walked back into the room. Sherlock was now sitting up, and he smiled when he saw me. I didn't know how it started, or who moved first, but suddenly we were together on the bed, kissing each other almost frantically. In a flash, Sherlock wrenched my shirt over my head, and pushed his face into my neck, kissing and licking down to my cleavage.

_Holy fucking fuck, how does he even KNOW this shit?_

A moan escaped my lips as he maneuvered me so I was laying down, his now prominent erection rubbing against my thigh.

"Sherlock…"

I was breathless, and let out a gasp at his next words, goose bumps rising over my skin.

_**"Beautiful."**_

It was murmured as he nuzzled his face into my chest, but it was heard nonetheless. It honestly shocked me. He thought I was beautiful? I expected aliens to land and take over the world before Sherlock Holmes called me anything like that, much less 'beautiful'…

I didn't have to imagine any more about what Sherlock would be like in bed. Turns out, he was passionate. He was… almost loving. I say almost because he… was holding something back. I didn't know what it was, but I could see it in his eyes. But I didn't ask about it. What he was giving now was amazing.

So I let him continue worshiping my body. That's the only way to describe it. A kiss to my shoulder, down over my chest, lips across my stomach, a swirl of his tongue round one of my hipbones… I tangled my fingers into his now messy curls, and tugged his head up to mine, kissing him again. Pulling away, I tugged at his shirt gently.

"Off."

He nodded, hauling his shirt over his head. All of his movements were so graceful. You'd think they'd be awkward and clumsy, what with his gangly limbs, but it wasn't so. I ran my hands over his skin, smiling at his sigh of pleasure as I did so. Strong, lean torso, smooth pale skin… I kissed every scar, every track mark, reminders of his dark past that marred his body. Sherlock watched through heavily lidded eyes. Bedroom eyes. They looked perfect on him.

"Sherlock, Love."

I murmured softly as I kissed down his torso, starting to follow the trail of dark hair as I got lower, nearing the waistline of his pants. He made a small noise, and I watched him slip his own hand to his crotch, rubbing himself through the fabric. I sat back, and took in the sight of him. God, he was so beautiful like this. His breathing was coming fast from his now flushed chest, and he had his eyes focused on me, making desperate little whimpers as he palmed himself.

And he claims he's never done this before. Shit, I felt like I as in some fucking porn flick.

I helped him out of his pants, blushing as his cock sprung free, standing straight against his belly. He groaned softly, and I smiled before getting the lotion.

"You have to be quiet, Love. Okay?"

He nodded, and I watched him gulp as I took his erection into my hands.

"R… Rose…"

His hands suddenly closed over mine, and I looked up into his wide eyes.

Fear.

I realized what this must be like for him. His mind and senses spinning out of his control.

"Sherlock. Trust me."

He stared at me for a second, before slowly nodding, and laying back. I began moving my hand along his cock gently, but gradually intensifying in pressure and speed. I had no clue of what he liked, so I varied my movements until-

Sherlock let out a keen on one particular stroke, and I smiled. There we go.

"Oh… Oh, _fuck._"

I watched his hands scramble for purchase in the sheets, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving. I knew he wouldn't last long.

I was right. Within a few more minutes, his eyes flew open, hazy looking. He had trouble focusing on me.

"R… Rose…"

He managed to choke out through a moan.

"Rose… Stop... It's… Too much… I can't, Rose… I can't… It's… I…"

I moved over him, not stopping my hand movement.

"Shh… It's alright, Sherlock. Trust me. Don't fight it, Love. Let it take you."

His eyes locked with mine, and I sped up the movement, which made his moans rise in pitch.

"Rose... Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose, ROSE."

His hand gripped my shoulder frantically, and then he cried out, his back arching up.

I cleaned him up afterwards; smiling at the soft mews he let out whenever I touched his tender skin.

"Rose… I should… Do something... In return…"

His voice was weak, and I shook my head.

"No, Sherlock. It's alright. Really."

After cleaning the mess, I climbed back into bed with him. Cuddling to him, I giggled when he spoke softly, his voice sounding wary.

"I'm naked."

"Hmm, yes. Nice deduction, detective. Now. Go to sleep."

Sherlock smirked a bit at my words, and nuzzled his face into my skin.

"Thank you, Rose."

I smiled, and reached for his hand. He took it, and pressed soft kisses to each of my fingertips.

"I love you, Sherlock."

The kisses on my fingertips stopped, and a kiss was pressed to my palm. Sherlock then closed my hand, as if trapping his kiss in it, and then pressed my hand to my bare chest, over my heart.

The action spoke for him.

_"Take this. Because it's all I can give you now."_

000000000(This is a fucking page break and it never seems to fucking work omg)000000000000

When I woke up the next morning, I was alone. I sat up blearily, looking around, and noticed my phone was lit up with 2 new messages.

_**'Lestrade called. Case. - SH'**_

I nodded to myself. Right. So John would be gone too. I opened the later message curiously.

_**'Last night was… that thing you did, it was nice. -SH'**_

I giggled softly to myself. He was so awkward and adorable. Bless. Oh, and the xx's were a nice touch. John probably told him to add them. I got out of bed, smiling, just imagining John's reaction to everything.

_"You two did WHAT?"_

_ "Wait, you LEFT her in bed? "_

_ "SHERLOCK."_

_ "Right. No. Okay, you are sending her a text right now."_

_ "Not like THAT. Make it sweet!"_

_ "Don't DESCRIBE it, Sherlock, what the hell?"_

_ "There. Now. Add two x's."_

_ "It means KISSES, for __**FUCK'S SAKE,**__ SHERLOCK!"_

I found Sherlock's overnight bag which was stuffed with some of him and John's clothes. I shrugged on one of Sherlock's dress shirts, loving the way his familiar scent enveloped me. Humming, I almost skipped around my flat, cleaning up John's make shift bed.

I was happy.

At least… In that moment. I was happy.

Sherlock made me happy.

That snide, amazing, ridiculous, childish, arrogant, beautiful, dangerous, wonderfully sweet, incredibly irresponsible, extremely sexy, genius of a man… Made me happy.

When there was a knock on my door, I went to answer it without thinking twice.

"Well. Haven't YOU grown into a pretty thing?"

My eyebrows shot straight up, looking at the familiar smiling face before me. Disbelief. That's what I felt.

"Irene? What the Hell are you doing here? I thought you were in America!"

We hugged each other, and I let her in. She took a seat on the couch.

"I was, but, you know. Business as usual. It's brought me to London. So I thought I'd pop in and see you. It's been so long!"

I smiled at her. It really had been ages.

"It's wonderful to see you again. Tea?"

She nodded.

"Ooh, yes please. You can't get a good cuppa in the States… Say… How's Jimmy? The trouble maker as always?"

I sighed.

"Of course he is."

Irene had been… the closest thing Jim had ever had to a friend all through his life. She'd been there as long as I could remember, and although she was Jim's age, she was the most… stable and continuous friend I'd ever had in my childhood and late teens. It'd grown silent, and I walked back into the living room, sniffling, sensing the foreboding atmosphere.

"What is it, Irene?"

She half smiled at me, and stood.

"You'll be expected to leave as soon as possible, Ro. I'm not sure for how long… Jim didn't say… But… it's necessary."

The dominatrix's words and face were firm, but her eyes shone with an apology.

And my happiness faded.


	16. Chapter 15

_(( All I can say is that I apologize for the obscene amount of time between my updates. Also, wild POV changes in this chapter so LOOK OUT, along with a lovely shout out to my hometown. I love you all. xx- Tori))_

Irene helped me pack my bags.

"There'll be cars coming soon to take your stuff away. We'll go out to lunch, and then come back so you can say goodbye to your flat. Then we leave."

I nodded, silent. I obviously wasn't going to be able to say goodbye to anyone. And that scared me a bit. What if I never came back? I didn't just want to disappear forever, without a trace. I needed to let someone know what'd happened… Irene and I went to lunch, talking and catching up as we ate.

"So, Rose… You're Sherlock Holmes' leading lady. He's quite a catch."

Irene smiled at me, and took a bite of her food. I arched my eyebrows at her.

"Yes, well, not exactly your team is it?"

She grinned, and winked.

"Not normally no. But he's one I wouldn't mind having."

I rolled my eyes, laughing softly. Same feisty Irene. If she wasn't so… well, criminal-esque, I'd even suggest she meet Harry Watson. They'd probably make a good couple. Although, Irene was never one for commitment.

"Have you two had sex? I need to know details, Ro'."

I groaned.

"No. We haven't. Okay? Why do people keep thinking I just go around having sex all the time?"

Irene laughed.

"Well I know I would if I was with Sherlock Holmes."

I half smiled.

"Well… He's not… He doesn't do that."

Irene arched her eyebrows, but didn't say anything. We ate in silence for a bit, me looking around. I needed to find one of Mycroft's cameras. As lunch ended, and the waiter took our plates away, Irene clasped my hand tightly.

"Do you love him?"

I met her eyes, and swallowed hard. In this moment, we were teenagers again, sitting on my bed, best friends. Carefree… Or at least, more carefree than we were now.

"Yes."

I sniffed, and looked down. She squeezed my hand gently.

"Does he love you?"

I laughed softly, but without humor, and half smiled.

"No."

She gave me a small, sad smile, and then we stood, and walked out of the bistro, towards my flat.

"The cars will have already come."

I nodded at her words, getting my key out and ready. When we arrived, I opened the door, and froze.

Nothing.

There was absolutely nothing. All my furniture, decorations, everything. It was bare, except for Sherlock's bag, right in the middle of the floor. I swallowed, at a loss for words. Irene spoke.

"We should go now. Before someone comes up."

I nodded silently, and followed her down the stairs. A car was awaiting us outside, and I stumbled into it, praying that Sherlock's bad hadn't been searched. Praying that everything would be okay. And I watched my new life roll away through the window.

**000(Oh snap)000(A NEW POV.)000000(BEWARE.)0000**

John Watson sat down in his armchair, sighing. He'd had a long day running all over London, and now he just wanted a cuppa and some peace and quiet. Sherlock was gone, off to visit Rose, and so he had the flat to himself. He'd made a fire, and he watched the flames in the fireplace sleepily, yawning. This might actually be a nice ending to his hectic day.

… Of course, Sherlock chose that time to fly in, stomping up the stairs, and slamming the door shut. John groaned, opening his eyes.

"Really, Sherlock, what the HELL do you think you're doing? It's MIDNIGHT! We have NEIGHBORS!"

Sherlock stopped his stomping around almost instantly, flinching at John's shouting. He took a deep, shuddery breath, and looked at John.

"… I… apologize…"

And John KNEW something was terribly wrong. Sherlock never apologized. For anything. To anyone. Except Rose. John stood, watching the tall man in front of him. Pale face, ruddy cheeks, red eyes…

"Sherlock, have you been c_rying?_"

He rushed over to his unresponsive flat mate, grabbing the man's wrist, concerned. Sherlock visibly swallowed, and when he spoke, he sounded a thousand years old.

"He's got her, John. Again. He has her. He took her right out from under my nose. Her entire flat, every single last bit of her, it's gone. He… He took her, and… I let him."

John froze, the words hitting him like bricks.

"But… Why would he take her again? He just let her go!"

**"I DON'T. KNOW. JOHN."**

Sherlock suddenly snapped, yelling into John's face. John swallowed, seeing the pain in Sherlock's eyes.

"Y… You'll find her, 'Lock. She'll be okay."

Sherlock brushed past the shorter man, and threw himself onto the couch, his gangly frame trembling. John watched, rooted to his spot in fear. Fear for Rose. Fear for his best friend who was falling apart before him.

"It's my fault, John. He's taken her because of me. If… If she dies… It'll be because of me."

John frowned, and went to Sherlock, laying a steady hand on the man's shoulder.

"Don't think like that, Sherlock."

"WHY. NOT… It'll… It'll happen. People die, John. It's what they do."

John winced at the familiar words, and looked down, his breathing shaky. No, he would NOT let this tear them apart. That's exactly what Moriarty would want. So he moved his hand to his friend's cheek, wiping a tear he found there.

"We'll get her back, Sherlock. _**Look**_ at me, Sherlock. We will."

Sherlock nodded, his eyes trained on John's blue ones. Blue eyes that held so much promise and comfort. John was right. John had to be right… Sherlock looked back down at his trembling hands.

"My bag was still at her flat. It had a note in it."

John made his way back to his red chair slowly, listening to Sherlock speak.

"The note said 'I love you'… One of my shirts was missing. Do you think she took it, John?"

"I bet she did."

John spoke softly, using his 'doctor's voice'. Sherlock fiddled with his fingers, and continued.

"She never got to hear me say it. That I loved her. I… I don't know if I do though… I hope I do. I think, if I could love, she'd be the one I'd love… But… I wish she could've at least heard me say it… Although I know she'd yell at me if she thought I didn't mean it."

John felt a lump forming in his throat. Sherlock sounded so… childish. So young, and helpless. And it hurt him, knowing Sherlock was hurting.

"She knows, Sherlock. It's alright."

Silence filled 221b, darkness growing as the fire slowly died. The two men didn't speak for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, in their own fears.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"C… Can I… Have a cigarette?"

"… Yes you can, Sherlock."

000(oh look.)000(another page break)000(fucking hell, this is so ghetto.)0000

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months. Cases came and went… But Rose never did. Sherlock obsessed over finding her. John took care of Sherlock. Every other week there was a letter on their doorstep. No way to track where it came from. Always a short message, one or two sentences, in Rose's hand.

_"I love you two. I hope you've been solving lots of cases for me, boys. Xx"_

_ "I miss you, Sherlock, Love. Xxx"_

_ "Sherlock, Dear, I'm wondering what I should get you for your birthday. January is getting closer…"_

_ "Please take care of him, John. X"_

These were the only sign she was alive. Sherlock clung to the notes; they were his only inkling of hope. And John just prayed.

Across the country, a blue eyed brunette named Rose McCallahan attended St. Andrews University. Her Scottish accent was spot on, even though she'd never lived there, and her knowledge on Art History (her major) was extensive, even though she'd never studied it. Rumors spread quickly about the new student, but she let them. The more muddled her history became, the easier it was to keep her new alias. Irene did business, Sebastian trained, Jim planned. And they waited for December.

00000000000(seriously tho)00000(it's a page break)00000000

December arrived in London wearing a cold cape of sleet, and also hauling in a new case… But really, the case be damned… Irene Adler was a mystery in of herself. John had been intrigued from the very start, especially with Mycroft's biting remarks.

"Sex doesn't alarm me."

"How would you know?"

Sherlock was back, and he was almost immediately obsessed with this Adler woman. John couldn't figure out WHY. The case was about sex and scandal; not things Sherlock was every interested in. But the man wouldn't shut up about the case, about HER. John liked to think it was just Sherlock's competitive streak; The Woman had after all beaten the man at his own game. The sexual tension between the two confused John even more. Not only because Sherlock would NEVER EVER in a million years, have any thoughts about sex… Well… Not as far as John knew. He wanted to ask Sherlock if he'd just forgotten Rose, but he never asked. He knew Sherlock still searched for her every day. It pained John to see Sherlock's desperation. Maybe this case was just a distraction. So John let Sherlock chase after the dominatrix, hoping it would make things a bit better.

On Christmas Eve, everyone came over to 221b. John had warned Sherlock to be on his best behavior, so he hoped things would go smoothly… Of course, things did NOT go smoothly, starting when Greg arrived, bringing packages addressed to all of them that he'd found in his office. No one had seen the packages being brought in or anything, so they were all very cautious. Upon opening the packages, however, they found they were Christmas presents. From Rose. She'd gotten them all something. New wool for Ms. Hudson for her knitting, a blue tie for Greg (_"It'll make your eyes pop, I promise. Xx"-Rose_), a free trip to the spa for Molly, and for John some of his favorite tea. (The tea blew him away; it was extremely hard to get, and he'd only mentioned his love for it once to her.)

Sherlock didn't let them see what Rose had gotten him.

This, which made Sherlock remember he hadn't rescued her yet, along with Irene's present, made him slightly irritable… Okay, extremely irritable. Add in his biting remarks, the trip to St. Bart's, and phone call with Mycroft made the celebratory night awful.

John leaned against the kitchen counter, letting his new tea steep. (Bless Rose, even when she was away, she was providing him comfort.) Irene was dead. Lovely. Sherlock had locked himself up in his room, and wouldn't speak to John. John didn't understand why Sherlock was so upset. Why was this affecting him? Cases never affected him. What did Sherlock even see in Irene? It made no sense.

0000000(fucking page breaks.)000000

Sherlock laid on his bed, trying to calm his ragged breathing, the heels of his hands pushed into his eyes in an attempt not to cry. He knew he was on the edge of hyperventilating but nothing he did would stop it. He tried to push away his thoughts, push away all of Irene's hauntingly familiar words and mannerisms, and the scarily similar body he'd just seen…. The DEAD body… That cold, dead body, lain out on a slab, face mutilated beyond recognition… Sherlock choked out a noise, not a word, not a gasp, not a sob. Just a soft, choked, strangled noise. He couldn't stop his spinning mind. The similarities were driving him absolutely mad…

For all Sherlock Holmes saw in Irene Adler, was Rose.


	17. Chapter 16

_((ALAS this story is, sadly, coming to an end… shortly. Not immediately… but shortly… So let's all enjoy it while it lasts. I'm glad it's coming to a finish, because I wanted to have it done to you guys before I move to Germany. Depending on my internet access there, and if you guys want it, there might be a sequel… Might not… __**So you guys, can you please, at some point before this ends, message me or review with whether or not you'd like a sequel, so I can plan? That'd be so lovely. Cos right now I'm ending after The Fall, and… yeah. Xx))**_

I kept getting texts that I wasn't allowed to respond to. Some from Molly, a few from Greg. Most were from John. I rarely got any from Sherlock. Many of them were silly, John venting to me about Sherlock being an annoying prick, and funny stories about the detective. But recently they'd been more serious. They'd told me I was needed back home.

'_I don't know what's happened, Rose. But please come back. X- JW'_

Clever John. My clever, wonderful John. He KNEW. Of course, he didn't know the details, but he knew something just wasn't quite right about the whole situation. He knew things weren't what they seemed. Soon came the texts about Irene, and I discovered she and my brother's game.

"Irene, please, leave him be. He… He feels for you."

My voice was hesitant as I spoke to her over the phone. Irene laughed softly.

"You're adorable, Rose. I can assure you, the man is head over heels for you. In his mind, I am you. I've made sure of it."

I swallowed; dread filling my stomach at her words.

"And now he thinks you're dead."

"Precisely."

I hung up, not wanting to hear another word. And I didn't. For weeks I heard nothing, until one day a text from John.

_'Mycroft told me today that Irene's dead. I don't know how to tell Sherlock. - JW'._

And then:

_'He's asked for her phone. He wants to keep it. - JW'._

I didn't know how to react. Irene couldn't be dead; she could work her way out of anything. And… Why would Sherlock want her phone? Maybe he HAD moved on- lost interest in me. I knew that'd be a possibility from the very start. Loving wasn't something he did…. Although, neither was sentiment.

So I was shocked when Irene showed up a week later, definitely NOT dead.

"He saved me, Rose. Sherlock saved me. I didn't deserve it. I gave him nothing. And he… I even think he knew. That I knew you. But, he still saved me."

Irene was trembling as she told me, her eyes shiny, and despite all shed done, I found myself hugging her. That day I sent one of my notes to 221b, hoping it would arrive safely.

_'You're a good man, Sherlock Holmes. – Rose'_

_** #######**_

It was about two months later when Jim told me his plans. All four of us were sitting in the den of our house together, drinking a midnight cuppa, and watching some crap telly.

"I'm gonna steal the crown jewels."

Jim piped up from Sebastian's lap. Irene looked up from her computer, an incredulous look on her face. I laughed softly.

"Right. Okay."

Jim glared at me, and I swear he was pouting.

"I'm serious."

I shook my head.

"You'll get _caught_."

Jim smirked, snuggling back into Seb's chest, a smug look on his face.

"I know. But it's all part of the plan, Love. I've got to give Sherly a little message."

I tensed, and forced myself to go back to my book and ignore my brother. It was quiet again before I spoke.

"Does this mean we're going back to London?"

"Yep."

I nodded, and began to read again.

_** ########**_

The night before we left St. Andrews, I went to East Sands. It was a bit chilly, but I didn't care. I loved the feeling of the cold sand, the smell of the salt water, the sound of the waves. It was comforting for some reason. And I needed comfort. Tomorrow, I'd be back in London, thrown back into my brother's game. And I was terrified.

My entire life I'd been alone, with only Jim to protect me. We protected each other, and then others. Jim planned, I acted. I could play the innocent little sister, or the grown seductress. Anything. It was easy for me… I was a world class sniper, just as good, if not better than Sebastian. I was trained in stealth… But then Jim's requests started going bad. His jobs weren't for good anymore… I'd made it out, with Mycroft's help. I became normal. I tried to forget my past, forget my old ways and old instincts… But they haunted me. And now I'd been sucked back in.

"Alright, Rose?"

I looked up to see Sebastian sit down beside me. I gave him a small smile, and sighed.

"Just thinking."

Seb nodded.

"Me too."

We didn't talk for a while, and I could sense the tension between us, even though we'd grown to be good friends. We bother knew each other's sides, even if Jim didn't. Seb knew I'd fight for Sherlock, not my brother. I'd fight for the man I loved, and so would he. He didn't hold it against each other. We understood each other. There was no "good" or "bad" between Sebastian and I. We understood the feeling of desperation and hopelessness in the love we had. We knew how it felt to fall for someone, to be so scared of it. **We knew how falling for someone felt just like flying, but it had a permanent destination.** And when you hit, you hit hard, and you'd do ANYTHING for your love.

"… It's either going to be Jim or Sherlock, isn't it Seb?"

My voice was soft and small, barely heard over the waves. Sebastian gripped my hand, squeezing it in a 'yes'… I looked up at him, and realized his face mirrored mine.

Fear, sadness, worry, stress… And an apology.

I squeezed his hand back, swallowing the lump in my throat. Seb gave me a cheeky half grin, and spoke.

"The best of luck to you, Rose."

"And the best of luck to you too, Seb."

And I meant it.

_**#####**_

_-_

The words flew through Sherlock Holmes' mind, not leaving him alone. Moriarty was on trial. The verdict would be today. There was no doubt in the detective's mind that the madman would come out innocent. Just WHY had he let himself get caught in the first place? Moriarty would lonely let that happen for one reason: it benefitted him. So. HOW did it benefit him?

Sherlock's phone rang, and when he answered, John was ranting away in his ear about how RIDICULOUS it all was. Moriarty was NOT GUILTY. He was free. FREE. How in all of the bloody fucking world could he be FR-

Sherlock hung up on John, and stood to make some tea. He'd have a visitor soon… And sure enough, nearing the end of his slow violin solo, the man of the hour appeared, walking straight into the flat.

"Most people knock."

The two men sat in opposite chairs, sipping their tea, talking as if it were no problem. They were so calm; one could have mistaken them for friendly strangers, if not for the thick tension filling the room.

**"I want to solve the problem- our problem; the final problem. It's gonna start very soon, Sherlock. The fall. But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying, except there is a more permanent destination."**

The words sent chills down Sherlock's spine, but he kept a straight face.

"Where's Rose?"

Moriarty smiled at Sherlock's question, chuckling softly, his knife digging into the apple he held carefully.

"She's dead."

It took every ounce of strength Sherlock had not to bolt from his chair at the words, his heart plunging into ice. His body twitched involuntarily, thinking of her dead. He swallowed hard, focusing on breathing.

"You're lying."

"Of course I'm lying. I just wanted to see your reaction."

Sherlock glared, and Jim smiled, setting his apple on the table.

"Tea was lovely, Sherlock, Dear. Ta."

After the man left, Sherlock reached for the apple with shaking hands.

**I. O. U.**

_**"I owe you a fall."**_

He heard the footsteps running up to the flat, but didn't look up until he heard the silence. Someone was waiting at the doorway then. If it wasn't John, wasn't Ms. Hudson, then who…?

Their eyes met, and the apple fell from Sherlock's hand with a thud.

_"Rose."_


	18. Chapter 17

_(( __**AND SUDDENLY, A WILD SEXUAL ENCOUNTER APPEARS. **__also, this chapter is long. Don't know if that's good or bad. But there's that. Don't forget to review! Thank you guys so much. xx)) _

Sherlock stared at me, shock evident on his face. I stepped towards him hesitantly, seeing how tense he was. He spoke finally, his voice hoarse.

"Are you… real? Or… Have I finally gone mad."

I quickly went to him, letting him clasp me to him, hard.

"Yes, I'm real, I'm here. I'm so so sorry I've been gone… I… I had no choice."

Sherlock nodded, his large hands finding my face.

"Are you alright?"

"Better now."

I whispered softly, looking into those gorgeous eyes. They were blue today. He pressed his lips to mine, and I kissed him back eagerly, revealing in the familiar taste. God, I'd missed him more than I'd realized. His tongue delved into my mouth, exploring every inch of my mouth, slowly, sensually… Sherlock was okay. He was fine. He was here, alive, with me.

"Moriarty is free now. From jail. I won't let him take you again."

Sherlock murmured into the crook of my neck. I swallowed, and shook my head.

"He won't need me again."

Sherlock frowned at my words, and opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head.

"Please don't. I just… want to forget."

He complied to my request, holding me close, and pressing his lips to the top of my head. Suddenly, the door slams open.

"You HUNG UP on me, Sherlock! Why-?"

John stopped short, seeing me, and I swallowed, seeing the look in his eyes. And I knew John knew… or… He had an inkling. He knew I hadn't been a prisoner. I stepped towards him cautiously, worried he'd hate me. Worried he wouldn't believe me if I told him the truth. But suddenly I was consumed by the shorter man's arms, in a tight, lung crushing hug. I clutched at John, exhaling a shaky breath. Before I pulled away, I heard John's voice in my ear.

"Thank God…"

_** ######**_

That night John pulled me aside as we cleaned up the kitchen. Sherlock was absorbed in one of his paternity battle programs, so of course he wasn't doing the cleaning up (not that he would anyway). John set a thick manila file down in front of me, and cleared his throat.

"Mycroft gave me this today, Rose. 5 major assassins. All living on Baker Street. I was only given 4 photos. And they all moved in around the time Moriarty, and you, get back in town."

John paused, his blue eyes locking with mine, before continuing.

"You keep… disappearing with Moriarty, but always come back unscathed. There were never signs of a struggle, each time you disappeared. I… I've noticed your reflexes, Rose. And your knowledge of certain things. Your mannerisms. Especially after Irene, who, by the way, is too much like you to NOT know you; I realized exactly what you'd be like without your… being such a nice person. I know what you know, Rose. Now tell me, am I right in my guess at who the fifth assassin is?"

I swallowed hard, my eyes filling with tears. John, my brilliant John.

"Y… You said Mycroft gave you this folder?"

John nodded. I looked down. Mycroft was my friend. He could be trusted.

"Then it's all true."

"I know you Rose. I know you aren't… I know it's not the same. With you."

I nodded, and squeezed his hand.

"I don't know it all. I don't know what's going to happen. All I know is that I'm free now. And… Don't let him out of your sight, John. Promise me. We have to keep Sherlock safe."

John's eyes were tight, his whole body tense, but surprisingly, his eyes showed trust. He squeezed my hand back.

"I promise."

_** #####**_

The next day the two of them were gone. A case had popped up, a kidnapping, and I'd awoken to Sherlock slipping out of the warm bed. He'd pressed a kiss to my forehead, and told me what was going on.

"Case, Love. I've got to get up."

Soon they'd gone, and I was left in the flat. I eventually got up and dressed, knowing it's what I should do, even though I knew I wouldn't be leaving 221b any time soon. People could recognize me, especially the assassins if they worked for my brother. They'd know me all too well. Speaking of the assassins, I was tempted to research them, but I knew there was a good chance the flat was rigged with cameras and bugs, so no use in that. So I hung around the house, cleaning mostly, and watching some crap telly. Halfway through the day I received a text from Sherlock, saying that the case had taken a turn and he and John might be home late.

True to his word, I didn't see them until after dark, when they rushed in, a bit frantic.

"Sherlock-"

"Hush, Rose, the place is bugged."

"I know."

John looked sharply at me, but Sherlock just nodded, and sat at his laptop. Once again acting like he knew more than he let on.

I was helping with the search for cameras when Greg walked in. His request for Sherlock to come with him confused me. Hold on, they thought SHERLOCK was the one who kidnapped the children? Greg looked to me for help when Sherlock refused to go to the station. I just glared, hoping Greg knew how disappointed I was in him. John watched Lestrade and Donovan finally leave, and Sherlock spoke, stating that they'd probably come back with a warrant. I winced at that. They wouldn't dare do that, would they? Sherlock was a friend! Why would they turn on him? What had my brother done…?

"You're worried they're right."

I snapped back into reality, Sherlock's voice slicing into my consciousness. He was staring at John.

"What?"

"You're worried they're right about me."

_**"No."**_

The sharp desperation in John's voice was evident, and I looked to him, my heart aching. Please, John, don't doubt him. You're the one he needs most out of everyone in the world.

"CAN'T YOU_**SEE**_ WHAT'S GOING ON?"

Sherlock slammed his hand onto the table, glaring at John. There was a pregnant pause, tension filling the room. John looked out the window, taking a shuddering breath.

"No, I know you're for real."

It was silent for a moment, the tension in the room too thick. John and Sherlock were staring at each other… The phone rang; we all jumped. It was Lestrade.

"They're all coming over. Now."

John's voice was hollow, and he looked over at me. Sherlock didn't move.

"Yoo-hoo! Oh, sorry… Am I interrupting? I just remembered you received a parcel…"

We looked up as Ms. Hudson came in, and John quickly reached for the package, ignoring the rest of her sentence. He ripped it open, and pulled out a… gingerbread man? John looked up at me, confused. Sherlock's voice came from behind me softly.

"Burnt to a crisp."

Jim's voice echoed in my mind, and I shuddered.

_**"I will burn you… I'll burn the heart out of you."**_

I turned to face Sherlock as someone pounded on the door downstairs. The police. John stomped down to meet them, putting up a fuss, and I heard his voice fading as he went down the stairs, along with Greg's rough one.

_"Do you have a warrant? No, stop, do you have a warrant?"_

_ "Leave it, John."_

"Sherlock…"

My voice cracked. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to my lips, being turning and putting on his beloved scarf. Soon he was in handcuffs, and Lestrade was stating the reason of arrest.

"Excuse me… He's not resisting!"

John glared, and I touched his arm gently, trying to calm him. Sherlock's eyes flickered towards us.

"It's alright, John."

"No, it's not alright, this is ridiculous!"

I swallowed hard, clearing my throat.

"John-"

"NO, ROSE-"

"Don't try to interfere or I'll arrest you too."

I flinched at Lestrade's words, and John fell silent… Until Donovan came in, running her mouth. My eyes filled with tears, and I dug my fingers into the arm of John's jumper, biting my tongue so I wouldn't scream at the woman. How could she say these things? What had he done to her? Besides, SOLVING ALL THEIR CASES, of course. How could they all just turn against him like that?

Things only got worse when John clocked the snarky Chief Superintendent in the nose.

"_John!_"

I gasped, and before I knew it, I was following a handcuffed John Watson outside, and watching him being thrown against the side of a police car. I watched the two men talk, and I hoped to God they were devising a plan of escape… Sure enough, there was soon a sudden scuffle, and then-

"Ladies and Gentlemen will you all please _get on your knees?_"

Everyone looked at Sherlock in shock, including me (I was staring more at the stolen gun in his hand… He wasn't one who exercised gun safety very well...). He fired the weapon into the air twice, a furious look on his face.

"_**NOW**_ would be good."

"DO AS HE SAYS."

Everyone kneeled, except me. I stood, my eyes trained on my boys, a smirk on my face.

"J… Just so you're aware, the gun is his idea, I… I'm just a…"

Sherlock pointed the gun to John's temple.

"MY HOSTAGE!"

I did my best to keep a straight face; laughing in this situation probably wouldn't be deemed appropriate. The pair continued backing up, and I caught Sherlock's eye. We held eye contact for a moment, and then he and John fled.

The scene around me was chaotic, people rushing about into police cars, yelling. Greg appeared on the street, and looked towards me. He stepped to me, but I shook my head.

"_Don't."_

My voice was icy, my eyes cold. A talent I'd picked up from my brother. Greg stared at me, looking pained, before following Donovan to a police car… Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hooded figure step from the shadows. I turned to face the man, and when he saw me, he froze.

"M… Miss Moriarty..."

"Follow them."

I snapped. He didn't need to be told twice, and ran. I stood on the pavement, arms crossed, tense. I'd just sent the man to his death, I knew. And I didn't feel sorry about it one bit. I waited until I heard the slightly faint sounds of a gunshot. The sound came from higher up, shooting down at the ground. A sniper.

Sebastian.

I let my eyes flick up to the rooftops around me, searching, and sure enough, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

"Hiya Seb. Nice to hear from you."

"Rose. What's going on?"

He sounded genuinely confused.

"Why don't you ask your boyfriend?"

"He's YOUR brother."

I sighed, and continued looking round the skyline until a sudden, short flash caught my eye. I nodded towards the spot.

"So I guess we're both in the dark here, aren't we?"

"Yes… But… Rose…"

"What?"

Sebastian hesitated, and I heard him click his mouth shut, before taking in a shaky breath.

"He made love to me last night, Rose. And he couldn't… He wouldn't stop crying. He… He told me he loved me."

I swallowed, fear creeping up inside of me.

"You think it's coming to an end, and soon."

I whispered. He cleared his throat.

"Yes."

"… Sebastian…"

"Rose…"

It was silent. I stared up at that spot on the rooftop, listening to the soft breathing on the other side of the phone. It was quiet, faint police sirens in the background, and various other traffic… And then, we both hung up. There was nothing left to say.

_**######**_

Sherlock felt sick as he and John exited Kitty Riley's house. This couldn't be happening, this shouldn't be happening… This was happening. Why would Moriarty do this? What would he do to finalize it? There was no way he would-

Oh.

"There's something I need to do."

Sherlock heard the words leave his mouth as soon as the thought entered his mind. There was no hope. Not really… But… maybe, just maybe, if…

And soon he found himself walking into the lab, his heart heavy, his mind spinning. And he waited for Molly.

"… You were wrong you know. You _do_ count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you… But you were right… I'm not okay."

"Tell me what's wrong."

Oh Molly. Sweet, wonderful Molly. Sherlock stood, swallowing hard.

**"Molly… I think I'm going to die."**

"What do you need?"

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am… Would you still want to help me?"

Molly looked up at the man before her, and saw it. In his eyes. She saw a _person_. The person she knew Sherlock hid from everyone else.

"What do you need?"

Her voice was a whisper. Sherlock stepped closer, gratefulness filling him.

"_You._"

_**######**_

I was sitting on the couch, back in 221b, waiting. Neither of the boys had contacted me, and I was… slightly worried, although I knew they could take care of themselves, as long as they were together. I was still mulling over my conversation with Sebastian. It'd sounded like Jim knew he was going to lose… But he'd never give up that easily.

Suddenly there was a soft knock on the door, and I rose cautiously to answer it. I opened it, and stared at the tall man standing before me, relief flooding my body.

"Sherlock? Where's John?"

"Rose."

His voice broke, and I finally noticed that something was terribly wrong. Sherlock looked distressed, fidgeting, his eyes wet.

"Sherlock…?"

"Iloveyou."

I stared up at him in surprise. He looked surprised himself, as if the words had just slipped out. He took in a deep breath, and tears spilled over onto his cheeks.

"I love you, Rose. I love you."

He choked out the words, and suddenly pulled me to him, kissing me deeply. Then I was being picked up, and I barely had the sense to wrap my legs around his waist. He'd shocked me… And now every inch of his body was pressed against mine, his hands were in my hair, his lips leaving trails of fire on my skin. I didn't register that I was being carried until I was lowered onto a bed- Sherlock's bed. I looked up at him, curious.

"I… I… Rose… Can I… I mean… I need… I want… to make love with… to you…"

He looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and shutting comically, and stuttering his words. I swallowed, suddenly remembering my earlier conversation with Sebastian… And so I blinked back my own tears, and nodded, pulling him onto the bed, over me.

"Yes."

I whispered softly, and then kissed him deeply, quickly making work of his scarf, jacket, and shirt. He trailed his lips over my skin as it was revealed, moving slowly. Our clothes slowly migrated to the floor, and then he was pressed up against me, naked, just holding me tight. I rubbed his back, one hand in his hair… He was crying, I could feel the moisture on my skin.

"I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you, Rose. I do. I love you."

"I know, Sherlock. I know."

He pulled away from my skin, swallowing hard, his face a tad blotchy from crying.

"I want this to last long… But… I… I don't have much time."

I nodded, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"I know."

Sherlock nodded, not even questioning my words. Just nodded, and moved to grab a small bottle out of his dresser. Lube. I didn't tease him about it like I normally would. That'd probably be a bit not good. He clambered back onto the bed, and began to squirt some of the liquid into his hand, but I stopped him.

"Let me."

He nodded, and I slicked up my hands, before taking his leaking cock, and stroking it gently. He moaned, his eyes trained on me. I swallowed hard, continuing. God, he was a virgin. I was taking his virginity. Fuck. I wasn't taking it. He was GIVING it to me. He knew he was… probably going to die. And he was giving himself to me. Fear started to take over me, but I concentrated on Sherlock. Just Sherlock. He needed this.

I finished, and kissed him deeply, pulling him over me, and spreading open my legs. He swallowed hard, and whimpered softly.

"It's alright, Sherlock. Just… Just push in, slowly, okay? Go slow… Like that, there we go."

I gasped softly as he entered me, and I watched him bite down on his lip hard, eyes scrunching shut. His mouth then fell open in a perfect 'O' shape, and he keened. I smiled, ignoring the pain, and encouraged him until he finally slid home. I whimpered in pain, and his attention snapped to me, eyes wide. He made to pull out, but I wrapped my legs around him, shaking my head.

"Don't. Just give me a second. It's been a while."

Sherlock was panting already, shaking with the exertion of not moving. I smiled warily, and kissed him gently, before speaking.

"It's alright now. Move."

So he did. And fuck, it was good. He moved slowly, lovingly, but also… sort of as if he were experimenting with it, which was so like Sherlock that I couldn't protest. I pulled him closer to me, and kissed him deeply. He groaned, his hips moving a tad faster. I arched my back, moving my hips to meet his, and our pace quickened. Sherlock made a sort of strangled cry every other thrust, and I tangled my fingers in his now damp curls, panting.

"Sh…. Sher… Oh _fuck_."

He was all I could think about, all I could taste, and see, and hear, and feel, and smell. And it screamed love. Tears started escaping my eyes as I stared up at the man before me.

"I love you. I love you."

His eyes opened at the words, and he murmured my name softly. I pulled him closer, my nails raking down his back, making him cry out.

"Rose… Rose, Rose…"

Eventually, sooner than I'd expected, I felt my climax approaching. I gripped his hands tightly, my eyes trying to focus on his face.

"Oh God, Sherlock, I'm gonna cum… I… I'm…"

He whimpered, and nodded, seizing my lips in an almost violent kiss. And I fell over the edge, screaming out, seeing stars between my closed eyes. I tightened around Sherlock's cock, and I heard him gasp out a loud, guttural cry, before pushing his head into my neck. He continued to thrust unsteadily through his orgasm, but eventually pulled out, and fell heavily to the mattress. I panted softly, trying to get my breath back, still clutching one of his hands.

Slowly, I turned to face him, and his eyes met mine. I half smiled, and kissed him gently, my hand rubbing over his chest. He whimpered, and pulled me to him weakly.

"I love you, Rose. I want you to know that. You're the only one I've ever loved."

I swallowed, and cuddled to him, pushing my face into his neck.

"I love you too, Sherlock. I always will."

He sniffled, and held me close, silent….

When I woke up the next morning, I was alone.


	19. Chapter 18

_((Oh… Hey… Long time no see… Like, a month long. I'm so so sorry. Lots of shit happening. Exams and then I didn't have my computer for two weeks, and then a bunch of stuff for my exchange in August… So, I apologize. I know everyone hates me. But I love you all. So… I'm forcing myself to write this. AND IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING WOOP WOOP. I apologize for this is total shit, I apologize. I deserve all the hate. xxx- Tori.))_

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, and combing a hand through my hair… My disgustingly ratty hair. I cringed, feeling the sweat still on my skin, and the sticky sheets… But… At the same time, I kind of liked it. It was Sherlock. He'd let me in; he'd trusted me enough to give me the most secret part of himself… And now he was gone.

I got up, and tried to make myself somewhat presentable, all the while checking my phone for messages. None. Not a good sign. At all. I threw on a dress and some flats, and rushed downstairs.

"Ms. Hudson?"

"Down here, Dearie! Look, they've just finished fixing up."

The 'handyman' shot me a smirk as he packed up, and my blood ran cold. I knew he worked for my brother… And the fact that he was leaving Baker Street wasn't good. I followed him out, and the minute the door slammed, he spun on me.

"Better get down to St. Bart's, Ma'am. I've heard there's been a bad accident. Someone's fallen off the building."

I froze, and Jim's voice ran through my mind.

"_**Sherlock owes me a fall, Rosie."  
><strong>_And I knew. I knew it. I knew he was dead.

##############

Somehow I made it to St. Bart's, and I stumbled in, hyperventilating.

_'Morgue, morgue, morgue, go to the morgue…'_

I obeyed the insistent chanting in my head, and rushed down the familiar halls of the hospital. I was almost to the doors, when they opened, and a frantic looking Molly peeped out. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she stepped out, and leaned against the doors.

"R… Rose… Rose, don't… Don't, okay? You… You can't come in."

I stopped in my tracks, trembling, staring at her.

"Molly… Is… Is Sherlock…? Tell me he's okay."

The sobs were coming now, bubbling up my throat, and I couldn't stop them.

"Please… Please… Molly, please… Just tell me… Tell me…"

Molly swallowed, and I saw her eyes glistening.

"Oh… Rose… I'm so sorry…"

… I broke down. I just… I collapsed… I sat there, on the hard floor, and sobbed. Everything… Everything was gone. I couldn't believe… that I'd let it happen. I'd killed him. It was all my fault.

And then, I was being lifted, being picked up in strong arms, and being tugged away… And I was fighting; I was fighting those arms, crying, and I saw a flash of silvery colour through my watery vision.

"Shh… Shh, Rose, Shh... I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…"

_Lestrade._

I flinched at his apologies, trembling… I knew what he was apologizing for.

_"I'm sorry for leaving him. I'm sorry for deserting him. I'm sorry for not believing."_

And those were the words I didn't want to hear him not say.

**###########**

The rest of the day passed by in flashes. Lestrade escorted me back to my flat, and I insisted I'd be fine alone. I didn't really care if I was lying to him or not. I didn't know myself. I found out my brother was dead shortly after, when I walked into my room, and found a note on my bed.

'_Looks like neither of us won, huh Rosie? I'll be looking after you. xx – Seb'_

Tears stung my eyes once more, and I sat on the floor, staring at the pattern of the carpet. Of course, I'd wanted Sherlock to beat my brother… But I'd never focused on the 'Jim being dead' part. I'd always known Jim's games would catch up to him one day, and I'd known the same for Sherlock… I just never thought their endings would be each other.

I lost track of time, drifting in and out of my subconscious, only snapping out of it when my phone rang. With a look around, I realized it was dark outside, and so I slowly got up out of my hunched position, and reached for the glowing object.

_Blocked Number_

I glared at the screen, and ignored the call. That was the 4th call, but I didn't care. I didn't want to talk to Mycroft right now. Nothing he could say would make this better, and knowing that I'd failed… Knowing that I was the thing Mycroft feared the most- the end to his little brother- I couldn't speak to him. If he wanted me dead, he could get off his pompous arse and come get me, I didn't care.

Trying to wipe the smeared makeup off my cheeks, I check my other notifications.

_16 messages, 8 missed calls_

Upon opening them, I realized they were all from John. Of course. Keeping the grief away by distracting himself. I opened the last one just as there was a knock on my door.

_'Fine, that's it. I'm coming over. - JW'_

I made my way over into the front room, and opened the door slowly. John and I stared at each other for a few seconds, silent, obviously accessing how terrible we both looked. I opened my mouth, but I don't know what for. To speak, to apologize, to cry? I didn't know… Nothing came out anyway. John took in a shuddering breath, and made a noise like to a whimper.

"He… He tricked me… I fell for a stupid trick, I left him, Rose. I could've saved him… But I left him. I should've been there… I… I saw it happen. I saw-"

John's voice shuddered, stuttered, broke. I winced. He continued.

"I saw him jump… He… He called me. He wouldn't let me come to him. I… The last thing I… Before I left, I called him a machine, Rose. A _machine_. I'm as bad as the others, aren't I?"

"No, no no, John, don't say that. Sherlock knows, John. You mean everything to him, okay? He'd do anything for you, and he knows you didn't mean it…"

John sniffed, and spoke softly as I pulled him into my flat, closing the door behind us. He walked as if in a daze, and I sat on the couch with him.

"You mean he 'knew'… I 'meant'… Because he's not here anyone, is he. I heard him say goodbye. I saw him jump…. I felt-… I felt…. He had no pulse, Rose... No light in his eyes… God, there was so much blood… I… I left him, Rose. I let him down… It's my… It's my fault… My fault…"

His voice wavered, and he stopped talking, shaking a bit. I touched his cheek gently, stroking over it, wiping away the rapidly falling tears.

"He said alone is what he had; he said alone protected him… And I told him friends protect people… I wasn't much of a friend, was I?"

"…. Oh, John, Darling…"

I hugged him close to me, tears forming in my eyes, watching him as he fell apart.

And John sobbed.

**##########**

When I woke up the next morning, John was still asleep. I rolled over to watch him quietly; grateful for how peaceful he looked now. He'd had terrible nightmares all night, until I finally pulled him in bed with me. We both needed familiar warmth, we both needed comfort, and we both needed love… And so we… comforted each other.

And when I came, and cried out Sherlock's name, John didn't even flinch. He just held me tighter.

Now, in the sunlit room, with a warm, naked body curled to him, John looked relaxed. And I was so thankful he at least got a few hours of good sleep. He stirred, and I brushed my hand over his cheek gently, trying to smile.

"Morning John."

My voice cut through the soft silence, and I cringed. It sounded too loud, too false, too interrupting. His eyes fluttered, opened slowly.

"Rose."

John's voice was barely a whisper, and I sniffed, setting my hand in his. He squeezed it, before brushing his lips against my fingertips. The tightness in my throat was returning with every second, but I was saved by John speaking again.

"I'll go make some breakfast, if you'd like."

I nodded, and watched him get up.

"Wait… John."

I sat up quickly, panic moving through me for some unknown reason. He leaned back towards me, concern etched on his face, and I shook my head, just pulling him into a hug. We held each other tightly for a while, just bathing in each other's presence. We were what each other had left of Sherlock, and that's exactly what we needed right now… Soon we pulled away, and John disappeared into the kitchen. I popped into the shower a few minutes later, washing him off of me, and forcing myself not to cry.

**#################**

Life moved on. Kind of.

I quit my job at St. Bart's… I couldn't-… I just couldn't. Couldn't be there. Couldn't see Molly. And I especially didn't want to remember. Anything.

Sebastian and I met every once in a while, and had dinner or something along those lines. Occasionally I'd get home from a day out (my flat held memories too- held hopes and dreams, ridiculous, childish dreams. I didn't like staying there more than I had to) and I'd find my bed rumpled, obviously slept in, a brief thank you note on my bedside table. Whenever this happened, I'd always find a single rose in a vase on my kitchen counter. Seb took care of me- Well, we took care of each other's sanity, more like.

Sometimes he and I would talk about Jim. I'd tell him stories of Jim and I's childhood, good times, all the things Jim hadn't told him. Seb would tell me fantastic stories of him and Jim's adventures, and how they'd saved each other, in more ways than one… We never talked about the bad things, never talked about his self- destructive nature, never talked about his meltdowns. Instead we'd drink until we collapsed together on my couch. We'd drink to Jim, drink to death, and drink to the curse of us being alive.

I never talked about Sherlock.

John and I were still good friends, and we'd occasionally go out for lunch during John's lunch break. He submerged himself in work at the clinic, almost never leaving. I didn't blame him. I worked alongside Sebastian now, for several different crime lords. Boring. Nothing compared to Jim, or Sherlock. Simple crimes, simple hits. But I needed the distraction, the money. John knew, I was sure of it. He never said anything, but I just knew he knew. Of course, he never figured it out, about Jim and I being related, about me working for him… But he knew what I could do, what I HAD done.

So when a crime ring got too out of hand, and the leaders were found dead with sniper bullets through their temples and the letters 'IOU' written in lipstick over their hearts, Lestrade and the Scotland Yarders turned their heads, Mycroft and his flying monkeys cleaned up the mess, and Sebastian and I sat back to watch.

John of course just showed me the news, shaking his head, and shot me an almost fond smile when he thought I couldn't see.

I hadn't been in contact with Mycroft, and I didn't want to be.

So… My life was… going. It was still empty, horrific, guilt-filled… But it was going.

Until the day the article came out.

I was eating breakfast when there was a knock at my door. I took my time going to answer it; it's not like anyone wanted to visit me anyway. When I opened the door, there was no one there, and I rolled my eyes, about to close it, when I noticed the paper lying there. I picked it up and brought it inside, curious, but then froze when I saw the headliner.

**'SHERLOCK HOLMES IS A FRAUD: RICHARD BROOK'S STORY'**

Directly underneath it were pictures of Sherlock, Jim, and…. Me.

Well, fuck.

I skimmed the huge article, heart flying. Basically it told everything in truth: Sherlock's life, Jim's life, Jim and Sherlock's 'relationship', Sherlock and I's relationship, and how I was Jim's sister… Of course, there were exaggerations, and lies… But the truth was all there, in black and white. And I knew everyone would believe it… Even John. Oh he knew Sherlock was real, he knew Jim was real, but… Me. I was the factor that would tip everyone over the edge. Because it would be true in everyone's mind. I mean, who could actually love "that Holmes Freak". It would make sense in their minds.

Well, at least there was nothing about Sebastian in here.

I finished my breakfast, oddly calm. I knew everything would go downhill quickly from here… I'd probably have to leave. All of London would know me as what the article painted me as: The Woman Who Broke Sherlock Holmes. At least I had all the resources I needed. Jim had left me a nice sum of money- the bastard had a will. He left most of his other things to Sebastian. Sentimental things. Tut tut, brother dear. Looks like the devil has a heart after all.

I eventually got dressed, and went out, praying no one recognized me. The cab ride was relatively short, but the walk to Sherlock's grave seemed the longest thing I'd ever done… I hadn't visited yet, and I hadn't really wanted to. At least not on these terms.

I stood there silently, looking at the black headstone, staring at the golden words until they danced in my vision, blurred in my mind.

"I'm sorry."

The words were out of my mouth before I even thought of saying them.

"God, Sherlock. I'm so so sorry. I… I tried. I did. I didn't know what Jim was playing. I should've told you. I bet something could've been done. I should've left you… I don't know if that would have hurt you- if you even truly cared… I did. But, if it would have kept you safe, I would've done anything- _anything_. I… "

I sighed, and reached out to brush my fingertips over the top of the smooth stone gently, to trace his name engraved there.

"I'm so sorry. And… And I love you. I love you."

There was a soft crunch of leaves behind me, and I spun round quickly, my hand automatically going to my lower back under my jacket, where my gun was nestled. When I met those blue eyes, my stomach dropped.

_"John."_

John- no, not John. A soldier. There was a soldier in front of me, whose eyes tightened when I said his name, his entire body tense. Angry. Betrayed. He spoke, his voice harsh, unfeeling.

"**Don't**. Don't you _**dare**_. Why… Why are you here. You have _**no fucking right. **_You… I can't believe… You… I should've known. I think I did know. But I didn't want to believe it. You were everything to him, Rose. How could you PLAY him like that? He didn't deserve it! You killed him. It killed him when you were gone. He blamed himself. He had nightmares. And now… Now he's…"

John paused, walking closer, but I didn't move. I couldn't move. It was like a terrible nightmare… All of this was. Hell, most of my entire life was like a terrible nightmare.

"And DAMMIT, Rose."

I jumped, tears pricking in my eyes, and why? Why now of all times? Maybe because, somewhere in the back of my mind, I'd always imagined having John. But that article had ruined any chance of that. Well played Kitty. John continued, and I noticed him trembling.

"I know… I KNOW you. How could you…? … I want to hate you. I had to watch him blame himself, battle with himself… I… I watched him… Jump off the bloody building. You… YOU COMFORTED ME. AND YOU KNEW. YOU…. KNEW... MORIARTY WAS…"

John's voice broke, and I allowed my tears to fall silently. John deserved my tears. He would interpret them as he would of course. But he deserved them.

"I want to hate you, Rose. I should hate you. You killed him. But… Goddammit, Rose, you also brought him to life. And because of that, I can't hate you. And I hate myself for it."

I stared at him, trembling, and found myself stepping forward towards him, but he stumbled back.

"Don't. _Please._"

His words were choked out, and I froze, seeing the pain on his face.

_I'm so sorry John. I'm so sorry._

I left quickly, with a brush of my fingertips against Sherlock's grave.

I didn't look back at John.

_**############**_

When I arrived back home, I had the plan in my head to pack up what I could, and leave. I had a certain amount of power in the world that I could use to my advantage. Maybe I'd track down Irene, and stay with her. I would call Sebastian; see if he wanted to come with me. Us together… It was a good thing. God, nothing romantic or scandalous. It was mismatched and strange, our relationship, but it worked. I guess it had to work for us. Jim wasn't easy to deal with alone. Through in his trigger happy, sniping, hit man boyfriend, along with his "let's pretend to be normal", lost, world class assassin little sister, her consulting detective boyfriend, his army doctor best friend, and we've got a real party.

So I guess Seb and I kind of had to be there for each other. We're both insane I guess, just not as insane as Jim and Sherlock.

And now Seb was all I had.

Of course my plans were dashed when I let myself in my flat, and found two roses in a vase on my kitchen counter, along with the newspaper article open beside it. I sighed, and made my way in my bedroom where, sure enough, my bed was rumpled and unmade. Picking up the note on my bedside table, I sat on my bed.

_'Everything is going to be okay, Rosie. - Seb'_

That night Kitty Riley was found dead in her flat. According to the evidence, she was forced to write 'I. O. U.' in lipstick on her wall, and was then tied up and shot through the heart executioner's style.

_I owe you a fall._

Sebastian came round around one in the morning, and I hugged him tight. He assured me Kitty had it coming anyway. I just smiled, and then spoke after some silence.

"Hey Seb?"

"Yeah?"

He waltzed into my kitchen, grabbing an apple out of the fruit basket I had sitting on the bar.

"If I left… Would you come with me?"

Sebastian smirked, his eyes crinkling up a bit, and just looked at me. I knew he was seeing me as ME. Not just as Rose Moriarty. Not just as his lover's sister. He was seeing me as a person. As a girl in pain. A lost girl. A wounded girl. A girl who he could trust. A girl who can always cook him a mean omelet. A girl who would always have his back, literally and figuratively. A girl who can shoot a man through his heart with no trouble, but who cries at simple television programs. A girl who loved and lost. A girl now hated. A girl. Just a girl. A girl who's seen too much, experienced too much. A girl who's giving everything up.

Seb nodded then, and flipped open his pocket knife, plunging it into the apple, carving slowly.

_I. O. U._

"I'll always come with you, Miss Moriarty."

I grinned- actually grinned- and nodded.

"Good."


	20. Author's Note aka Don't Hate Me

**HUGE ASS AUTHOR'S NOTE (aka PLEASE READ):**

Hiya everyone! Alright, so I've been meaning to write, but then I got to thinking… I want to know what exactly you lot want from this storyline. If you'd like, I can write one last chapter, and then the story would be over… Or… I could end it here, and begin another story to create a series. I have several ideas I could use.

What I want to know is what YOU guys want. Whether it be about Rose/Sebastian and their relationship and/or adventures, or straight into after the fall with Rose/Sherlock, or anything else you beautiful people have in your funny little heads. I know you're all going to hate me for just leaving an author's note, but I felt like I needed to.

SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE can you each leave a comment for me, either with your ideas and wants, or just a simple "I don't care." I just want to see how my readers feel! I do appreciate every single one of you so much, you don't understand how much. It's nice to know I make some people happy, and give people FEELS. (ALL THE SHERLOCK FEELS!)

So yeah. Thank you all so much. As soon as I get a few comments, I'll get to work! Thank you, thank you, thank you! xx – Tori

*slowly backs away while 'Shark In The Water' by V. V. Brown is playing because I feel as if I have lied and deceived you with the hope of another chapter*


	21. Author's Note 2 for CeR

**AUTHOR'S NOTE. AGAIN. I'M SO SORRY.**

**NO, REALLY, LISTEN TO ME. IT'S LITERALLY BEEN A MONTH SINCE I LAST UPDATED, AND I'M SORRY. **

**I FEEL TERRIBLE. **

**LIKE YOU THINK I'M KIDDING BUT I'M NOT. **

Okay, so basically I leave the country to move to Germany for my Exchange Student-ness in 10 days. So right now stress is making me go insane, and I'm packing like an idiot, and basically crying 24/7.

I know that's no excuse, because although I'm really busy, I know I've had some spare time, and I'm just nappy.

I'm planning on making a sequel to this, and hopefully you guys will appreciate it.

The thing is, although I WILL have wifi and my computer with me in Germany, it might be slow updating. (I know if you've stayed this long, then obviously you can handle slow updating SORRY AGAIN.)

I won't start the sequel until I get to Germany and settled, although I might update _**It's All Fine **_soon, before I leave.

Anyways. I fully encourage you to message me, yelling at me, for being terrible.

BUT YEAH. HEY. IF YOU'D LIKE, YOU CAN SEND ME A PROMPT FOR _IT'S ALL FINE_, AND I SWEAR I'LL FILL IT. WILL THAT MAKE IT UP AT LEAST A BIT? PLEASE. FORGIVE ME, I'M SO SO SORRY.

I LOVE YOU.


	22. Sequel News!

The first chapter of the sequel to "Cicutam Et Rosa" is now up! It's called "I Will Wait; I Will Stay". I do apologize for the long hiatus you've experienced. But I am now in Germany and kind of moved in, so what the hell, I thought I'd write. My brain is a right bunch of mush right now, what with school and trying to learn German and all that, so I do pray you'll excuse any mistakes. Point them out and you get hugs! I hope you like the sequel, and don't forget to R&R! Much love! xx


	23. Hiya Everybody!

Wow!

I HAVEN'T BEEN ON IN FOREVER AND I'VE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH!

My life has been crazy busy the past year and a half, with me moving to and from Germany, then starting my first year at University. HOWEVER: I've started to swing back into writing! It's very exciting for me, as I have been going through some personal things and haven't really had any motivation to write until recently. I'm not even sure if any of you still follow me here or not, but if so, I have news:

I've moved to Wattpad!

If any of you would like to check me out on there, it would be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just to pop by and say hello! I miss talking with you all and hearing your feedback. I will be posting Cicutam Et Rosa for sure on there, as well as some of my other work from here. I will also be continuing my Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers fic, for those few of you who seemed into it before I stopped writing.

On Wattpad, you can find me under the name "OnoraRose". (Sorry everyone. Self-consciousness means various writing aliases).

I love you, and best wishes to you all!

xoxo

ToriKat


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